


The Shattered Mirror

by Haunted_Moonlight



Series: Devil's Deal [4]
Category: ChaoticMonki | Cryaotic - Fandom, CrankGameplays - Fandom, GTLive, Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF, Youtubers, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Again, Be sure to read that first or else you might end up a bit lost, I am become terrible, Intense friendships, It has finally arrived, Let's get this thing going, References to Reflected Embers as well, Spoilers to Devil's Deal!, The sequel to Devil's Deal, character torment, destroyer of feels, references to history
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2019-10-31 16:47:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17853410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunted_Moonlight/pseuds/Haunted_Moonlight
Summary: When the curse was reversed and all was returned, the wizard split into five separate fragments. Locked inside the minds and bodies of the book's users, they took took root and warped, adapted and reflected their distortions like that of a shattered mirror. It is an aftermath that is unbearably painful, one that drives them to their goal of once again becoming whole. But such a quest is ruthless, and even now outside of the cage, the victims must struggle and fight to remain alive...





	1. Prologue

Another night filled with nightmares.

The Swede stirred, rolling onto his side with a faint groan.

_Blood in the house-_

His head tossed a bit and he let out a small groan.

_Blood in their room-_

He tossed again, causing the mattress to bounce just slightly. This certainly wasn’t the first night, and had he been more conscious he would’ve felt a bit bad about disturbing all who shared the bed with him. But he remained asleep-for the time being at least-as the sheets started to get all twisted up between his legs.

_Everyone dead. His friends dead, Marzia dead, even the freaking pugs-_

His heart was racing, going a million miles a second as his breath quickened.

_And green eyes staring right out at him, pearly whites grinning widely-_

He could still hear it: those final words of the watcher, still echoing through his head.

_“Do you realize what you’ve done?!”_

That was enough.

The man immediately sat up in his seat, trying to catch his breath, feeling his heart still pounding, his body covered in a cold sweat. Next to him he sensed Marzia stir and gently put a hand on her sleeping figure in reassurance he didn’t actually feel. He looked to the foot of the bed to check on the pugs-

And froze.

They weren’t even looking at him, not even after his sudden awakening. No, they were staring at something on the other side of the bedroom. His eyes trailed up to follow their gaze; he felt himself freeze up to see eyes staring back out at him like something straight out of his nightmare.

But these eyes weren’t green, not entirely.

Rather, they were blue that had flecks of green in them, as if a cracked window with a bright green light shining in behind it.

The figure was still familiar, he knew this person-so much so that he instinctively almost grabbed something from the bedside table to throw at him in an almost playful, annoyed manner.

But instinct told him otherwise: rather, he found himself unable to move, frozen. Frozen up with words for once caught in his throat. His eyes flickered back down to Marzia, still asleep, _oh god_ did he need to get her out of here? He had to say something, right? If he could at least be a distraction, maybe? Or something? If he could just get her out of here somehow-

So finally he drew in a few deep breaths, licked dry lips in an effort to recover at least _some_ small ounce of bravado…and spoke.

Not loudly, not yet. He was still trying to figure out if waking up Marzia would be the better or worse idea. But he suspected he’d find out in a minute.

“Ethan?” he demanded softly. “What the _fuck_ are you doing here, standing over us like a fucking creeper? You disappear for _how long_ , get everyone fucking _worried_ and then you decide just spur of the moment to pop in while we’re all trying to get some sleep for the night? Have you lost your goddamn…your goddamn…”

His words were starting to die on his lips. Honestly he was almost surprised he’d managed to keep the word train going for this long, even if it was starting to dissolve into mere rambles. He swallowed hard, scooting back just a little bit as the pugs stood up with faint growls, as Ethan took a slow step forward, just a little bit closer to the bed. He felt exposed-so _ridiculously exposed._ No weapon…no Flamey, not even a damn shirt. And even worse, Marzia asleep so peacefully right next to him. This was seriously like something straight out of a nightmare.

“You know…” Ethan said softly, a startling quiet to what was typically known as a ‘loud blue boy’. And there was something just _off_ about his voice, like it wasn’t quite…it didn’t quite sound the way it was supposed to? Like, for some reason, it didn’t sound fully… _American._ There was the faintest touch of an accent, like something he’d heard here in the British Isles before, like something he might would hear from _Jack._

So…Irish?

“When I chose to bind myself to the house, I knew the risks. Even in my original lifetime, I’d stared into the bright abyss, watched a building get swallowed up by flames. I heard the creak above as the roof started to cave in; I heard the screams of everyone inside as their very flesh melted.” ‘Ethan’ (definitely not Ethan!) took a few more steps forward, staring intently at Felix, the green only seeming to shine through the cracks in the color of his eyes even more. His expression was cold, but only as cold as an near-dead ember could be grey while a seething angry glow peered out from underneath. “I promised myself that it was a thing I would never allow to happen ever again. Not to me…not to my family…not to _my_ home.”

Felix found himself pressed against the headboard even more now, hearing the pugs growling louder. _Oh god oh god oh god-this wasn’t Ethan. This_ **_definitely_ ** _wasn’t Ethan, this was someone else-_

He stared deep into those blue-green eyes that refused to even so much as blink. He had already long-since processed who this was, but it was only at about that moment that his mind even _began_ to accept it, to admit who truly stood before him.

It wasn’t Ethan.

Ethan in body, maybe, but it was never truly Ethan. It wasn’t.

No, this was definitely the monster of his nightmares.

The one who continued to keep him up at night, even though they were now all out of the mansion. Even though now they were all safe-or at least, what they believed was safe up until recently.

 _“Anti,”_ he whispered, his fingers curling tighter around the fabric of the sheets.

Okay, yeah, now he _definitely_ had to wake up Marzia. He had to get her out of here somehow, preferably covertly but he didn’t even see any sort of way such a thing could even really be possible? But he knew, he just _knew_ that the green-eyed demon would have no qualms about taking everything he loved and cared about, everything and everyone he held dear to brutally butcher them. _Especially_ after the thing he did, and he knew-they _both_ knew-what that thing was.

So oh god, now what was he gonna do?

Oh god, he actually kind of anticipated this. He _knew_ this was coming, somewhere in the back of his mind he _knew_ from the second he set that that flame, tossed that bottle through the building’s open door and watched it slowly consume the wretched structure completely. He realized right from the very beginning that what he was doing included taking a serious risk. It was a risk he felt necessary enough to go through with _but still he never really expected consequences to actually happen beyond maybe arrest for arson._

So what the hell was he gonna do?

Well…maybe there was actually something to the way the movies did it.

Maybe he could somehow get this guy to start monologuing.

_This was perhaps the stupidest solution he could’ve possibly come up with but what the hell ever, he didn’t fucking care, so long as it actually worked-_

“You’re Anti.”

‘Ethan’ tilted his head, eyebrows raising. “Of sorts,” he replied. “A part of him anyway.”

“What do you mean ‘a part’?” Felix demanded. He shook his head. “I thought we _killed_ you. Back in the mansion-back when we fixed up Jack-”

“Oh, you fixed him, that much is true. Or you might’ve just...broke him further.” ‘Ethan’ shook his head and shrugged. “It really depends on your definition.”

“He’s awake. He’s got his memories back, mostly. You’re not messing with him anymore. Seems the only person you’ve broken at this point is yourself. And maybe possibly Ethan?” Felix paused and frowned, suddenly realizing just how little sense that made. After all, Ethan wasn’t even _there_ when they defeated Anti. And he never actually did an outright possession, not traditionally anyway. So how even the hell-?

“Oh, you might think that,” ‘Ethan’ replied, narrowing his eyes. “But I would honestly expect no less comprehension from someone as completely clueless to magic as you are. As _all_ of you are.”

“Oh yeah?” Felix asked, summoning up as much confidence as possible to snark off at him-even if it _was_ fake. As he did, his hand slowly and blindly crept across the short space between himself and Marzia, touching her shoulder lightly before giving it the tiniest shake, hoping to get her attention as silently and gracefully as he could manage under such circumstances. “We seemed to know just enough to fuck you up pretty bad, in that case.”

“Only as much as those dearest to you will be fucked with,” ‘Ethan’ replied with a tight smile. He moved to step in closer, now almost at the bedside and tsked. “Really though, so many things you’ve been involved in to get on my shit list. Helping Jack, forcing me into my current state, escaping the mansion…” He moved in another step, pale skin borderline _illuminated_ in the shadows as his hands seemed to glow with blue and green lines. Felix tensed, staring at the hands-the green was definitely a _new_ thing, and based on what little he’d seen thus far, it meant he was likely about to start slinging around spells.

He felt himself freezing up again, he couldn’t move, he could only hope to _god_ that Marzia moved-

Oh god, Marzia-

_Please be awake, please be awake, please be awake-_

He suddenly felt a tightness around his throat, felt his head slam against the headboard as he tried to suck in a breath of air in his shock-found he couldn’t, couldn’t breathe, no air, _holy shit-_

‘Ethan’ stared down coldly at him, tightening his grip further on his throat. “ _Burning down_ **_MY MANSION-!_ **”

A streak of pale across the sheets-Felix suddenly heard a yelp, felt the fingers release and gasped for breath as ‘Ethan’ staggered back while clutching his arm. The Swede gasped for breath, trying to regain his bearings as Marzia sat up, staring at the scene wide-eyed, mouth hanging slightly open in shock. Maya stood at the edge of the bed between the two, stance protective and growling at ‘Ethan’ as Edgar quickly got up to join her.

“Felix-?” Marzia began. Her eyes flickered over to the wizard who swiftly looked up from his arm to glare at them. “Ethan-?”

Just a split second.

It was an extremely tiny distraction, but it was going to _have_ to do.

They had to make it count for all it was worth-

“ _RUN!”_ Felix exclaimed, moving to give her a small push out of the bed before leaping out of the bed himself, making sure to grab a pug under each arm. Marzia’s bare feet hit the floor, the two rushing toward the bedroom door.

“ _Conpesco-_ ”

Blue and green magic shot forth ahead of them, like grasping hands made out of wisps of smoke that slammed the door in front of their faces. The two skid to a stop, twisting around to see ‘Ethan’ holding his palm out towards them.

“ _So you like fire?_ ” ‘Ethan’ asked, moving to take a couple steps towards them. Felix’s eyes widened, quickly setting down the pugs to turn back to the door and grasp the handle, struggling to twist it open. “After all you have given me, perhaps I owe you more than enough warmth in kind.”

The light in his hand was getting brighter again, evidence of a new spell starting to be charged.

_“Felix-!”_

_“I know-!”_

Felix glanced back over his shoulder, noticing a warm light start to surround the wizard’s palm. He cursed several times, a mix of English and Swedish as he struggled.

Oh god.

Oh god _this wasn’t good._

_They were about to get burned alive and now Marzia had gotten dragged into all of this oh god-_

“Incend-”

A flash to his left: he looked back to see Marzia quickly move forward, several paces closer to the bed again, quickly ripping off the blanket and flinging it at ‘Ethan’. The fabric flew over the man’s head, obscuring all but his fiery glow from view.

“Marzia-!” Felix began.

“Felix, _hurry, hurry-!”_ Marzia pleaded.

The distraction of the blanket seemed to be just enough to break whatever focus the magic might’ve had on the door, because the knob suddenly twisted, the Swede staggering back as the door flung open. “Go, go, go-!” Felix shouted, scooping up Edgar as Marzia grabbed Maya and rushed on ahead out the door. He quickly made sure to shut the door behind them once they were out, hurrying as fast as they could through the house to make it to the front door. It was still dark overall within their home, but they navigated it without much difficulty, hurrying through the place in their racing panic, eager to make it home free and away from the supernatural _nutjob_ that pursued them. The couple felt a blast of heat from the direction of their room, ignored it, kept running.

They reached the front door, Felix scooping up the keys on their way out as Marzia quickly unlocked the door and yanked it open. They felt another wave of heat and Marzia immediately reached out, snatching Felix’s arm and yanking him closer to her-and just in the nick of time, too. A shot of fire blew right past, singing the hairs on Felix’s arm, striking the wall and coating it in flame. Felix shouted a couple curses in Swedish-Marzia was already shoving him out the door.

 _“Andare, andare, andare!”_ she ordered, having already slipped into Italian in her panic. She quickly moved to follow, starting to slip out the door after Felix.

_“Conpesco!”_

Marzia let out a shriek of pain as the door suddenly slammed on her body, trapping her halfway out the door. She struggled, pushing with her free hand as she attempted to force the door open just enough to give herself some wiggle room, feeling it pressing into her hard, into her very bones. It was crushing, she was struggling to breathe, tears stung her eyes. Felix quickly spun on his heel, eyes bulging in panic.

“Marzia-!” he shouted.

“Maya! Take- Felix, take Maya!” she shouted, head twisted around just enough to see the possessed wizard slowly approach through the spreading flame of the room but feeling the squirming pug in the arm outside the front door. _“Felix!”_

Felix quickly reached out to take Maya from her, quickly setting her down next to Edgar so she’d have use of both hands. He then moved to try and ram the door open, throwing all of his weight against it in a desperate bid to get her out of the house. “C’mon, Marzia...c’mon-!”

Marzia struggled against the door, desperate, flinching as hot embers floated towards her face. It only made the struggle to breathe even worse, that and the smoke all threatening to choke her. But then she saw movement to her left, a full-bodied figure with blue-green eyes borderline glowing through the shadows, only further illuminated by the orange-yellow glow until the flames were completely blocked out.

“Poor...poor Marzia,” the wizard murmured softly, noticing the terror flashing in her eyes. “You were never the one I was after, not really. My target was the coward on the other side of the door.”

Marzia gave another futile push against the wall, hearing Felix’s angry and frantic shouts behind her and the pugs barking. Her desperation shined in her eyes, weighed heavy on her tone. “Please…” she whispered, squirming as much as she could to try and get as far from the madman as possible.

“I was going to kill him. And perhaps still burn your house down, yes, but you were never really my target. Not specifically anyway.”

The man wrenched her hand away from the wall to take it, clasping his with tightly hers as he stared into her eyes, tilting his head slightly. “But I see now…”

Marzia stood frozen in panic, unable to pull her eyes away from his, unable to stop looking at the lights that trailed up the man’s arm.

“Such a missed opportunity to end it so simply. He would never suffer as I have suffered…”

He gave her hand a squeeze.

“Recently…”

The light snaked up through his fingertips-and with horror, Marzia noticed it starting to creep up into her own fingertips as well.

“Long ago…”

The lines of magic continued to creep up through her hand, through her wrist, up along her forearm. It was almost pretty. _Almost._

“I know from my own experiences that such a death in body is not so much suffering as it is a mere _release._ ”

Marzia sucked whatever breaths she could, starting to feel somewhat lightheaded. She had no real leverage to push up against the door anymore, not really anyway. Her foot, her leg...but she couldn’t get so much as a good angle on it, not enough to escape anyway.

“Doing harm to those around the offender, however, is more of a wound to both _heart_ and _soul._ Especially when said harm is continuous. Especially when he has to watch.”

The fingers tightened a bit more, almost painfully, as he added, “And I’m afraid that you, dear Marzia, are ground zero.”

_“No-!”_

“The fire of his heart…”

The lines in her arm began to match that of the light on the wall behind the wizard.

“A literal flame that shall burn brighter and brighter…”

Orange and gold and red…

“Into a beacon as the moon rises on Walpurgis…”

A sudden searing heat shot through the woman’s arm, eliciting a loud, terrified shriek of surprise and pain.

“And the clock strikes midnight...”

And then suddenly the pain was gone.

Almost.

Almost, because it’d all condensed into a single spot in the center of her palm, glowing like a tiny inferno with a burning sensation that radiated outward.

“Only to fall into a pile of ashes by the next rising morn.”

The wizard gave her hand a final squeeze before releasing, listening to the Italian’s whimpers. He took a generous step back and gave a flick of his wrist; Marzia could suddenly feel the door go slack and she sucked in a sharp breath, coughing several times in the aftermath. She staggered away from the door, back into Felix’s arms as she clutched her hand. Her eyes flickered up only once to see the figure of the wizard through the crack in the door, caught a glimpse of Felix’s phone in his hand, the almost-sympathetic smile on his face as he gave them a small wave.

_“Ciao.”_

And with a turn, suddenly the wizard was gone.

“Marzia-?” Felix began, to which Marzia backed further into his arms, whimpering as she grasped her hand tightly.

“It hurts...it hurts…” she whimpered.

Felix reached out to try and take a look, hesitated as he took in the house that now glowed from the inside like an ember, then looked back down at her. “Can you walk?” he asked softly. “Marzia-c’mon, it’s not safe here-”

He moved to gently take her arm and lead her away from the scene, nerves already at their peak, eyes glancing around as they hurried to the car.

“Our home-” Marzia whimpered, watching as she carefully got into the car.

“I know, I know. We’ll figure it out later, c’mon.”

The two helped the pugs into the car and then followed, sparing no time as they slammed the doors shut behind them. The car pulled out, hitting the road in almost zero time.

Trying to leave behind a house of flames for the second time.

Trying to leave behind what they once thought safe and secure.

And off into the shadows, out into the great unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are again. Um-I'm just gonna go on ahead and admit right now, as it currently stands, I've been doing more work to the prequel of Devil's Deal as opposed to the sequel, and I'm actually still trying to decide on when exactly I'm gonna start posting prequel stuff. It might actually be roughly around the same time as this fic-we'll see how all that goes once I get it figured out. So updates might actually start off a little slow. But! In all fairness, Devil's Deal actually started out as a oneshot of its own anyway, and I do kinda wanna start finding that fuel to help stave off procrastination. So I'm kicking my ass in gear and going on ahead and posting this up. Rejoice everyone...the pain begins again. I'll see you all in the next chapter! Until then~


	2. Chapter 1

Through the kitchen door. Through the backyard, through the garden-

Jack’s eyes widened when he suddenly saw Anti appear in front of him, quickly sidestepping in an instinctual attempt not to run into him-or _through_ him, anyway. The second he did he saw a blast of something bright and blue and green fly through the entity’s form, causing his form to waver and rupture for a split second like a glitch. Anti hissed, glaring at the spellslinger before his eyes darted over to look at the Irishman, who had skid to a stop to look over with instinctive borderline concern. Green eyes immediately glared back at him.

 _“What are you doing?!”_ Anti shrieked, a splitting pain suddenly shooting through Jack’s skull. _“Keep running before I do it for the both of us!”_ The host let out a small sound of pain, which was followed by the merciless added shriek, _“_ **_NOW!_ ** _”_

“Fragment giving you a bit of trouble, Jack?” the wizard questioned, walking calmly forward, irises littered with fragments of green. There were blue-green lines tracing up his hands, into his arms like veins that gave off a faint glow. It was definitely Ethan in body-but it didn’t really sound that much like him. His usual voice was laced with something of an accent: if Jack had to hazard a guess, he’d almost swear it was that of a Dub. “Why don’t I help you out and take that off your hands?”

Jack wanted to back away, but he stood frozen, struggling to comprehend just what the _hell_ had happened to his friend. “You…” he muttered, but then he raised his voice to demand, “What the hell did you do to Ethan-?!”

“He’s still right here, inside. But this is _my_ time to play.” The wizard took another step forward. “You can call me Blank. I’m here to collect Anti.”

Jack took a step back in response, shaking his head. “Something tells me that’s not going to fuckin’ end well for me.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s already explained the situation to you by now,” Blank replied, a small smile creeping across his face. It wasn’t a friendly one. “I can see that he’s finally managed to claw himself out of that lovely little grave your friends buried him in, anyway. And quite recently, from the looks of it-”

 _“Shut it-”_ Anti hissed, eyes narrowing at the wizard.

Blank took another step forward, still smiling that unnerving, unconvincing little smile as he extended a hand outward. “But how much can you really trust from Anti, right? Last time you did, you almost lost who you were entirely...you were almost turned into a monster with all of your friends dead-”

Jack’s eyes widened a bit, but then squeezed shut for a moment as the images flashed across his mind’s eye all over again, only bringing about yet another surge of running pain. No, he...he didn’t fully remember that; as disturbing as the flashes were, they all bordered on nonsensical, a mixed jumble of voices and screams and blood and pain and-

He grunted, struggling to shove the thoughts out of his head.

“ _For fuck’s-”_ Anti hissed, accompanied by a pain that rocketed through Jack’s head so sharply it actually did make him cry out. _“Goddammit-!”_

“Tsk, tsk, Anti, you really shouldn’t try forcing such control,” Blank tutted, taking another couple steps closer to the doubled-over man. “You may be the core, but considering the circumstances and just how much they buried you makes the balance between the two of you all the more precarious.”

_“Move, you moron-!”_

Jack noticed sneakers come to a stop just before his eyes, realizing the man was now standing over him. He tried to stagger back but his vision was blurring, the world was on tilt as he felt his entire self out of balance.

“Now, now, don’t try to fight it. Don’t try to run away. This will only take a second-”

He couldn’t stop the hand that reached out to grab his arm and hoist him up. As he looked up at the wizard, he could see spots burning their way through his vision, like fire scorching through old film. He reached out, tried to shove himself away or at the very least squirm out of his grip, but the attempt was feeble.

His eyes caught the shining flash of metal in his peripheral, eyes widening, body instinctively tensing and freezing up in a terrified attempt at bracing himself. A useless effort, he was gonna die here, he could still hear Anti shouting at him in urgent desperation and rage-

He suddenly felt the hand release his arm, saw the entity stagger as he himself toppled and tumbled in the grass, feeling another wave of pain shooting through him but with a suddenness it seemed to ebb away-at least from his head. He suspected Anti was just as surprised and caught off guard as he was as whatever attempted hold he had over him released immediately.

It took a moment for his mind to even begin to sort out which way was up as it attempted to at least somewhat right itself. As he sat up, he caught a mop of dark hair, a figure that stood directly between himself and Blank with back towards him. His brain was struggling to put together the pieces, to get itself back into focus, and it took way longer than he would’ve cared to admit that he actually _recognized_ the figure-

Just around the other man he could see Blank struggling to his feet as well, glaring daggers at the interloper.

 _“You-”_ the wizard growled, eyes filled with almost as much unwanted surprise as there was anger.

“Time to go,” the newcomer immediately said, swiftly turning on his heel and walking over to Jack. The Irishman felt a hand seize his arm again, dragging him up into a somewhat standing position and forcing him backwards as the newcomer’s eyes swept the area. Whatever he was searching for, he clearly seemed to find it as they hurried to a nearby corner of the yard-

Was it just him or could he see little wisps of red circling a small spot, a thin trail of it leading to the sheen of red that wrapped around the house?

But he couldn’t focus on that, not really, anyway. Not for very long.

Because everything seemed to distort around them in an instant, warping, swirling and bending nonsensically. He looked up at the other figure with wide eyes-it was the only thing in this topsy-turvy _hell_ that _didn’t_ seem to be distorting-

...Too much.

But even in that much, he could still see trails of movement, afterimages left in the other man’s wake, mostly in reds and bluish-greens while the figure himself seemed almost washed out like something straight out of a black and white movie. He tried to pull himself from the man’s grip-it only seemed to tighten ever-further in response like a vice. Just as he started to feel sick, everything suddenly skewed and curved sharply, like putty being stretched and wound around a pencil before it suddenly all snapped back into solidity, everything coming into a far more clear and focused reality-

But it was most certainly _not_ the reality they just left.

This didn’t look like his backyard.

This didn’t look familiar in any sort of way, shape or form, this was a fucking _field-_

...Where the _fuck_ were they?

Jack looked around, eyes sweeping the surrounding area for a moment in stunned silence before he finally looked over at his-rescuer? Killer? At this point _god only knew who he could actually trust-_

 _“What even the actual fuck-?!”_ Jack exclaimed before whirling around to face the other. _“MARK, what the FUCK is going on, how the HELL did you do that, where the FUCK are we-?!”_

But his words suddenly fell silent, staring at the expression on the man’s face as his words all seemed to falter. It wasn’t just the expression, it wasn’t just-

It was his _aura._

It was his _eyes._

Mark’s eyes were narrowed as he surveyed the area for a long moment before finally his expression became one of disgust. “Dammit,” he hissed. “ _Of all the places-”_

Jack continued to stare for a long moment, uncertain of how to even _begin_ approaching the situation. He could only _assume_ that it was yet another fragment of weirdness controlling Mark at the moment, which was...not definitely good.

But he also wasn’t sure if this particular entity was capable of magic beyond what he just saw, nor how much control he potentially had over it. Considering how Blank was, after all…

But he just _saved his ass_ for some reason?

For what purpose?

To get him away from Blank, to take away his kill before he could do it himself? To _actually rescue him?_ If what Anti mentioned was of any indication, that each fragment was trying to kill each other to regain and assume control over the other pieces, the latter explanation was highly fucking unlikely.

He searched his own mind for a moment, reaching deep within in an attempt to seek out Anti but found it oddly silent-although a residual echoing pain still panged throughout his skull. He could swear he saw Anti in the corner of his eye, bent over, borderline collapsed, but he couldn’t get an actual good view of him as the image always seemed to slip just out of sight every time he tried to look directly on.

Yeah, no, something told him that Anti wasn’t really going to be of much help here.

He watched Mark for a second longer before starting to back away from the man-but the other suddenly turned to face him, eyes gleaming with scattered fractals of color across the irises. His breath caught, he struggled for words-but Mark-or _whatever the name of the entity possessing him was_ -merely narrowed his eyes and turned away. “We need to go,” he abruptly stated. “It’s not going to take long for Blank to pinpoint where we ended up and this is _still_ not a good place for us to be.”

“W...what-?” Jack asked, but Mark didn’t seem to say much else as he started to walk off. Jack frowned. “Hold on a second-” he began. He looked around the surrounding area: it looked relatively tame, to be honest. A open field surrounded by what almost looked like well-trimmed hedges, a few houses bordering the field and a football goal nearby. There were standing stones behind him, although none too fancy. It was just three large stones-bigger than he was-leaned against each other in a square pattern so a person could easily step into the center-

He felt a sudden pang in his gut as he stared at it, his eyes locked on the structure for longer than he could even explain, just-

For a split second, he almost expected to see a few very small people huddled in that crevice. What even, why? Where the hell did that come from?

He rubbed the palm of one of his hands, a faint, echoing pain seared across it, first thin but then a dull ache along the entire hand; he glanced down but saw nothing. So instead he swallowed nervously, contemplating his options.

Run or…

Or stick around-?

If he ran, would it really even make that much of a difference?

Either way, that _thing_ had Mark in its clutches now. God only knew what had happened to Ethan...he couldn’t just let it happen to Mark too.

Granted, he didn’t even know where to start when it came to figuring out a solution to all that without killing him, but-

“Are you coming or what?”

The voice snapped him out of his thoughts, drawing his attention to the man who had stopped to look back at him again.

“I didn’t just stick my neck out for you so that you could once again fall into Blank’s hands. Let’s. Go.”

Well.

It wasn’t like he even had so much as a _clue_ to where they were right now, was it? And...follow or not, he got the feeling he was probably in far more danger if he _didn’t_ go along with this guy. So…

As Mark started heading out of the field and towards the street, he trudged along not far behind, quickening his pace somewhat in an attempt to keep up. The more distance he put between himself and those standing stones, the more the pain in his hand seemed to ebb away, almost as quickly as it was even there to begin with.

“What do I call you?”

Mark seemed to hesitate for a moment, glancing back at him. “What?”

“The guy with me is going on ahead and calling himself Anti, apparently. And then whatever’s possessing Ethan is going by Blank-” Jack made a face, peering at the other. “I just-I need something to distinguish you from Mark. Because you’re _definitely not Mark. Are you?”_

The other stared him in the eyes for a long moment before breaking his gaze, moving to head along again. “Dark,” he replied simply. “Go with Dark.”

“Oh, so we’re pretty much all going with alter ego names from Youtube at this point,” Jack replied dryly. He shook his head. “Of fucking course. Because making this whole situation read like a fanfiction would absolutely be appropriate-”

Within the blink of an eye, Dark seemed to close the gap between them, swiftly grabbing him by the collar and gripping it tightly. “Does all of this _seem_ like a joke to you-?” he hissed. “We-” But his words were cut short as his grip suddenly seemed to loosen and his entire figure just straight-up wobbled. “We need-”

“Mark?” Jack made a face and shook his head, hands moving to the other man's shoulders in some attempt to help keep him from full-on collapsing. _“Dark?_ What’s going on, what’s wrong?”

_“Shit-”_

Jack’s eyes widened slightly and he looked around, not sure what to do, not sure where he could even go for help except for one of the houses nearby. “Dark!”

But when the man looked up at him, his eyes were softer now, more confused and disoriented. “Jack-sorry, hang on-”

Jack stared, trying to get an actual bearing on the situation. “ _Mark?_ ”

“Y...yeah, hang on…”

Jack waited somewhat awkwardly, letting the other stabilize for just a moment before Mark finally straightened a little bit, shaking his head. “Okay. Okay, I think I’m...holy shit-okay-”

_“Mark, what the fuck-”_

“I think the relocation weakened him. A lot.”

Jack stared for a long moment before finally releasing him and shaking his head. “You-what- _where-?”_

Mark rubbed his face in his hands for a moment, still trying to gather his bearings, then looked around. “It’s...there’s a lot to explain, I’m still struggling to kinda...comprehend it all. We can do so later, just-” A frown settled over his features. _“When and where are we?”_

Jack stared at him for a second with his mouth agape. Finally he burst out, “What do you mean, _when-?!”_

“Look, I was kinda backseat during a lot of Dark taking the wheel and besides that, his jumping around like he just did is really...weird...” Mark shook his head. “And disorienting. From the looks of it, most of the fragments are able to do or use at least _one_ thing that's not exactly...normal, I guess. Dark’s thing is apparently...surfing invisible channels? I’m not completely sure-”

Jack turned, muttering to himself on the insanity of the whole situation. After taking a few steps away from the other as he ran his hands back through his hair, he then spun on his heel again to face him again. “Well did he even say _where_ he brought us?”

Mark shrugged and shook his head, eyes and expression genuinely bewildered. He looked about as confused as Jack  _felt._  “I don’t know! All I managed to make out from him was one word when we arrived here.”

Jack frowned, eyeing him. His tone took on a more even note of seriousness, the pitch from his panic and confusion fading. “And what's that?”

_“‘Home.’”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, here we are, the long-awaited continuation of Devil's Deal's epilogue. I did admittedly want this chapter to be a bit longer, but it seemed like a good stopping point. Maybe the next one~ And a new challenger has entered the arena! Anyway, this chapter takes place just a few hours after the prologue-for reasons. We shall see what the future brings~ Anyway, it's exciting and so heartwarming to see so many people hitting up this fic! I'll do my best to see that your support isn't in vain. So if you liked it, drop a kudo, drop a comment, and I'll be seeing you all in the next chapter. Until then!


	3. Chapter 2

Okay.

Okay, home.

For the moment, that didn’t actually tell them very much, now did it?

Jack looked around, taking stock of their surroundings. A second take, it wasn’t just what looked like a neighborhood off on the other side of the field. On another side, a sort of large building across a street-he couldn’t quite tell what it was though. On another side, just up the steep rise? A couple roads, cars absolutely  _flying_ along one of them. Not too big, not for the moment at least, but it was something.

Alright, so that was something, at least.

They weren’t in the middle of nowhere, and he honestly felt justified enough in such a concern. No, there were people here, there was traffic, there were means of communication. They weren’t just out in the middle of the wilderness or anything.

Good. Now to just figure out where even the fuck they _are_.

He sucked in a deep breath, then let it out in a tense sigh, fingers still tugging a bit at the hair it was entangled in. “Alright. Alright, you said- _home?_ ” he repeated, mind racing a bit. He squinted at the area, as if that might provide some form of a clue, as if he might manage to somehow recognize _something._ He spun around to look back at the standing stones again, feeling that brief pang in his hand before shaking his head and turning back to Mark.

_You got anything to say about this?_

He tried calling out to Anti in his head, he was sure that the other could hear him-but the other was strangely silent and whether it was on purpose or just from sheer exhaustion after their most recent ordeal was unclear.

Looked like they were gonna be all on their own for the time being.

“I take it Dark isn’t being very responsive to you, either,” Jack grumbled.

Mark shook his head. “Not really, no. Like I said, he’s gone quiet: I’ve noticed that happens whenever he ends up exhausting himself.”

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed, eyeing Mark for a few long seconds. He couldn’t stop the wave of anger, of frustration and resentment and betrayal. How fucking long did Mark know about this?

How long had he been going through this?

Why the _fuck_ didn’t anyone say anything or warn him about all of this? The fact that he _might be possessed and/or hunted by some sort of fucking demon didn’t actually strike them as important enough to mention at all?_

But he hated those feelings, the flood of negativity that threatened to bowl him over like a tsunami as he continued to struggle with gaining his bearings over it all. Granted, he felt damn well justified in it-if there ever was a time one _should_ be feeling that way, after all. But the more logical part of his mind told him that freaking out over it right now would definitely get them nowhere. So he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, using the strength of almost all his willpower to push those feelings aside-for the moment, at least. His mind was still racing, of course-but maybe all for the better? So long as he could keep that racing focus on the task of figuring out their location, at least.

His eyes finally opened, noticing Mark staring back with eyes slightly wide and full of guilt and regret, seeming on the brink of going into full explanation and perhaps a bit of defense-but instead Jack held up a hand and shook his head. “Look. We’ll talk about it later,” he replied. “I think figuring out where the hell we are right now is kind of our first priority.” He thought for a long moment before continuing, “Is there anything you can elaborate a bit on as far as Dark’s power goes? You mentioned something about surfing on invisible channels?”

Mark bit his lip, a bit surprised by Jack’s focus on the situation but then nodding. “Yeah. Uh-yeah. I actually still don’t get it-not entirely anyway. Something about ‘arcane clusters’ and ‘ley lines’?”

“Arcane clusters?” Jack frowned in contemplation, but then looked back over his shoulder again at the standing stones. The stones were more than likely a portal tomb, nothing all too magical about that-maybe? Then again… “Like standing stones.”

“That does kinda seem consistent in his launch and landing points, yeah.”

“Or...portal tombs-” At this, Jack’s frown deepened. “Wait, no, that couldn’t make sense. _There isn’t a portal tomb or standing stones of any kind in my backyard-_ ”

“There was a glow though?”

Jack blinked, caught almost off guard as he stared at the American. “What?”

“There was a red glow. It extended all the way over to your house?”

“I-” Jack thought back, remembering the circle with pale wisps of red-like a heatless but energy-charged fire that phased in and out of reality, borderline blink-and-you’ll-miss-it. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. But I thought that might’ve been caused by you? Or Blank?”

“Blank’s magic was blue and green.”

“And you?”

Mark shook his head and shrugged, looking genuinely clueless. “I technically don’t have magic- _Dark_ doesn’t have magic, either. Not really. Not beyond what the teleportation aspect.”

“O...kay-but then, where the hell would something like that have come from?”

“I-uh-don’t know.” Mark paused before adding, “You have any magical visitors lately?”

“I don’t know, have I?” Jack countered bitingly, but seeing Mark’s expression he winced and turned away.

“Look-Jack-”

“Sorry, yeah, no, we- _not right now-_ ” Jack mumbled, finally moving back towards the standing stones but continuing on past it.

“ _Where are you even going?”_

“To find a fuckin’ road sign, Mark. I’d at least to know which goddamn _country_ we’re in,” Jack countered, crossing the field but this time not looking back. As he continued along though, he added more quietly, “I do have a theory, but…”

There was silence as they trekked up the steep hill, finally making it to the edge where they saw the road, watching as a few cars drive past. Jack didn’t quite stop until he reached the guardrail, squinting across at the even larger road that had busier traffic and faster cars and multiple lanes. In almost no time he felt at least some fraction of relief.

Cars driving on the left side of the road. There weren’t too many places that actually did that, especially outside of the British Isles.

Thank god.

They probably weren’t too far off from home-relatively speaking, at least.

He was also starting to feel more confidence in his theory.

He waited for a long moment as the cars sped on past, feeling the wind brush by them before suddenly jumping over the guardrail without a word and darting across the street. Mark looked startled, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Wait-what-” He quickly scrambled to follow, jumping over the guardrail himself and jogging after him. “Hold on-Sean-!”

But Jack didn’t stop, crossing the thin line of vegetation and finally reaching the guardrail to the larger road.

“This is the motorway…” he muttered under his breath as Mark finally came to a stop at his side, needing to catch his breath from the suddenness of their quick pace. Jack didn’t give him much time to do even so much as that though, hurrying along the guardrail in the pace of a near-jog even still.

“Sean-!” Mark called, although his voice was lost amongst the rattle and roar of engines, the howl of the wind that whipped off the passing vehicles. So instead he shook his head and trudged on along, figuring he’d try again when he actually caught up to the Irishman.

Jack finally skid to a stop, staring up at the sign that extended across the road. “Motorway 50-closest...junction takes us to ah-Brehon's Chair..." He nodded to himself. "Yeah, this is around Rathfarnham area, isn't it?" He jogged a few paces further to get a look at the other side of the sign, looking back towards Mark. “Yeah-okay! Yeah, alright. That’s pretty much what I thought.”

His eyes dropped back down to ground level, looking back at Mark. “Dublin,” he announced. “We’re in Dublin.”

“Dublin?” Mark repeated, frowning as he finally came just steps away. He turned, looked up at the sign and squinted as he let his hands rest on his hips and back. “Huh. How the heck did you manage to call that?”

“When Ethan-er-Blank speaks, it’s kinda with an accent. Closest I could put it to was a Dub-” Jack shook his head. “At least this puts us close to civilization. Can’t really say that for a good chunk of the country.” He sighed, scratching his head before finally pulling out his phone. “We should try and head into the city, I think. I’m hoping we’re not that far out. So maybe if we were to call an Uber…”

Mark frowned slightly as he watched before finally letting out a sigh and leaning against the guardrail. His eyes trailed around the area, taking into account the closest signs to them. Looked like a retirement home off in the distance, signs to a college...and again, the neighborhood.

“We should probably make our way over to one of those buildings if we’re getting an Uber,” he suggested, already starting to walk as Jack punched away at his phone. “Make it a little bit easier on the driver when they come over to pick us up, you know?”

Jack gave a small shrug, partly absorbed in what he was doing, partly oddly withdrawn. “Give me the name of the place?”

“Uh-” Mark debated their location for a moment before finally deciding what would likely be easier. “St. Columba’s College?”

“That works.” Jack continued putting in the request for a lift as they walked, then paused to check something else before making a slight face and looking over at him. “We’re practically forty minutes away from the city.” Not that it wasn’t something they could afford, but under the current awkward and tense circumstances, he wasn’t entirely sure he was up for sharing a car with a stranger and...well, another stranger, it was starting to look like. “You said it was a college?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s take the bus.”

“Sean-”

“There’s going to be one and it won’t be _that_ much longer.” Jack shook his head, moving to pull on ahead as he focused more on the destination than his travel companion, an overwhelming number of thoughts starting to tumble through his head. “And besides, it’ll be a lot cheaper.”

Mark pursed his lips as he followed but remained quiet, no doubt in thought himself. _And maybe talking to the entity he carried within his head as well?_

Honestly? Who could even tell at this point?

It wasn’t until Mark saw Jack scowl at his phone and shove it into his pocket that he spoke up again.

“What’s up?”

“Hm?”

“Your phone-something wrong with it?”

“It’s-” Jack looked ready to explain, but then shook his head. “It’s nothing. Phone’s just acting up a bit, that’s all.”

Mark frowned. “‘Acting up’?” he repeated. “How so-?”

Jack shook his head almost dismissively. “I don’t know. It’s been doing so since back at the house.” He then went silent, seeming to think about something for a moment before reluctantly adding, “...Around the time the computer started to act up, actually.”

The concerned look deepened on the American’s face. He sped up his pace a little to catch up with the other, not slowing until he about reached his side. “Hold on,” he said. “Wait a minute, wait a minute, just-stop-” Another small burst of speed to bring him around until he was more or less in front of Jack, turning to face him and holding up his hands. “You’re saying your phone started acting up back at the house?”

Jack came to a stop, giving him a somewhat confused if not suspicious look. “Yeah…” he began slowly.

“And your computer started doing more or less the exact same thing at about the exact same time?”

Jack stared, brows furrowing. “I...don’t know if I’d quite say _exact same_ , but…”

Mark shook his head, brushing it off. “Even so. When did that happen?”

“What-?” Jack gave him a look. “Earlier this morning. Actually right before Ethan showed up-” His words came to an immediate halt as he realized and he seemed to cringe. “Oh... _balls_ …” He held up his phone, almost incredulous. “You’re saying that asshole possessing Ethan might actually be _tracking_ us through our technology?”

Mark shook his head. “I’m just saying that seems like _way too much_ of a coincidence and there’s a _lot_ we don’t know-”

“ _I_ don’t know.”

Mark blinked, staring back at the other. “What-?”

“ _I_ don’t know, Mark. But not you, apparently.”

A look of guilt flashed through brown eyes as Mark shifted uncomfortably, looking away for a moment before looking back at him. “Look-Sean-” On one hand, he had a point. Hell, the others who had their doubts back at the hospital, the ones who were hesitant to let Jack live on a lie about what happened to him-yeah, they were right, weren’t they? This really was coming back around to bite him in the ass. On the other-

Ugh, on the other, _did Jack really want to do this right here?_

Jack glared back at him, blue eyes filled with betrayal and...something he really didn’t see from Jack often: anger. _Actual, true anger._ It wasn’t something he’d seen in the other often, not with the positivity he tried to exude as much as possible-but he’d known the Irishman long enough to know just how much he _hated_ to dwell on such negative feelings like that.

Okay, looked like they were doing this then. On the side of a busy road in the middle of nowhere Ireland.

Sure. Alright.

So finally the American signed and shook his head, starting to head down the hill to lead them back across the less busy street and down into the field, motioning for Jack to follow. The more distance they put between themselves and the loud motorway, the more easily they’d be able to talk-he hoped.

The closer they got to the rock formation in the middle of the field, the more his hand seemed to tingle, but he did his best to ignore that for the time being.

“Believe it or not, there’s actually a lot about what’s going on right now that I don’t know about myself-”

“But you knew about Anti. Didn’t you?” Jack demanded. “You knew that this...that this _thing_ was hiding out in my head, just like whatever it is that you’ve got hanging out in yours-”

“No, I actually didn’t,” Mark corrected, turning back to Jack with a frown. He walked backwards a few paces to face the other, but slowly came to a stop as they were now well-within the field. Seeing that the other’s eyes were studying him with disbelief, he carefully considered his next words. “I…” He looked away and shook his head in clear agitation before looking back at him again. “Well I actually didn’t up until just recently.”

“ _How_ recently?”

“About halfway between the time you woke up from your coma and now.”

Jack continued to stare back at him in silence for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t _believe_ this…” he muttered under his breath.

“Look-there was _good reason_ -”

“‘Good reason’?!” Jack exploded with a voice barbed with cynicism. “What _‘good reason’_ could possibly justify _not telling me_ that I might be _possessed_ by a _demon?!”_

“Okay-first of all, we’re not necessarily _sure_ that it’s a _demon-”_

 _“Does that really make that any better, Mark?!”_ Jack demanded. “We’ve _seen_ what this kind of entity is willing to do when possessing _Ethan!_ And I’m almost entirely sure that yours really isn’t all that much better! And considering the things that the one in _my head_ has _said_ to me-?” The Irishman shook his head incredulously again. “And based on what I’ve seen of these guys, they can full-on _control_ you- _you don’t think that kind of thing is maybe worth mentioning to me?!_ What if I got taken over, ended up hurting Signe somehow? Or Robin? Or _literally anyone walking up to say hi to me-”_

“Because we weren't about to risk losing you again!”

Jack froze at the sudden outburst, mouth partway open in words that never actually spilled forth. A long heavy silence suddenly weighed over the field, laced only with the white noise of cars rushing by in the now-distant background.

When the silence finally _was_ broken, Jack was the one to speak. But now his words came out in a stunned, hushed quiet.

_“What did you just say?”_

Mark dragged a hand down his face as he turned away and walked away for a few paces, letting his hand rest for a moment over his mouth. _Shit. Shit._ He didn’t mean for that much to slip out. He didn’t want to have to explain what happened and certainly not like _this._

_If he told Jack about what happened, who knows what would happen after that?_

_To Jack and...really just everything?_

He finally turned back around though, walking back over to Jack. “You...that house, at Halloween-”

“What?” Jack frowned. “You mean the house where I fell into a coma-the one with the chemicals-”

“It...wasn’t chemicals, Jack.” Mark shook his head. Everything on his features screamed that he didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to have to explain.

He didn’t have a choice.

“It wasn’t-what happened wasn’t chemicals. Or...really anything that made sense. It wasn’t...really what you would expect…”

Jack stared at Mark questioningly, a frown on his face. The American seemed to be struggling with his words, so he finally let out a huge sigh.

“It’s kind of a really long story and we’re out in the middle of a field. Just... _please_ : I need you to trust me with this. I know I probably don’t deserve it after all that’s happened, but…” Mark held up a hand, then used it to gesture in the direction of the college. “You said it was probably about an hour’s bus ride from here to city?”

Jack eyed him guardedly. “Yeah…?”

“Tell you what: I’ll tell you everything while we’re on the bus. Okay? Everything I actually _understand_ and know about, anyway.” He gestured at their surroundings, adding, “Because all I know is that we’re probably not all that safe here.”

Jack hesitated, staring at him for a long moment before finally letting out a sigh. He _really_ wasn’t sure _what_ to think at this point: but he couldn’t deny that Mark actually had a point either.

So finally he let out a small sigh, scratching the back of his neck and trying not to let his mild irritation show as he relented.

"...Alright," he agreed. "On the bus then. But...dammit Mark, I expect to know _everything._ Everything you can manage to explain."

"I promise, Jack. Just...if you could make one of your own-?"

"Maybe-"

"Let me know if you start feeling off at all while I tell you?"

Jack scoffed, looking away. "Oh, you mean like a demon talking to me in my head-?"

"No, no, I mean-" Mark paused. Considered. Then shrugged slightly. "Well, _that._ But also if anything else starts going on."

"Such as...?"

The other man winced slightly at the thought of it. "High anxiety?" he began. "PTSD-like symptoms...memory loss?"

Jack stared at him for several long moments before shaking his head. "There's a fuckin' lot of shit you're gonna be explaining, Mark."

"I know."

Jack turned, heading to a side of the field they hadn't yet strayed to yet-but were already on their way. "C'mon. Let's get to that college. The sooner we make it onto that bus, the better."

Mark frowned slightly, but then let out a small sigh and shook his head, moving to follow. "The better..." he repeated softly. "I hope..." he murmured as he walked, following after the Irishman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey guys. So new chapter is finally up with plenty of drama! Not a whole lot happening right now but it should all start to kick up within the next few chapters or so. And in the meantime-time for Jack to start knowing what the hell happened! That's gonna be a fun time. Can't entirely promise there's gonna be a whole lot of chapters out this month because I'm focusing a bit on Camp NaNoWriMo at the moment-but on the upside that means that there should be a whole lot of content produced in the aftermath, all ready for posting! But anyway, thanks so much for all the support, it really means a lot and helps to fuel this story. So if you liked it, drop a kudo, drop a comment, and I'll be seeing you all in the next chapter. Until then!


	4. Chapter 3

The wizard picked through the house, a slight sneer resting on his face as frustration oozed out from his features. Or rather-the features of the one he resided within, the one he’d taken over. As he made his way back inside, he stepped over the broken glass in the kitchen, blue-green eyes flickering about the dimly-lit interior.

So close.

He had been _so close_ to obtaining the core.

And this was the _second time-_

His eyes narrowed even more, his irritation manifesting in veritable waves. As if a wind swept through the house, things were beginning to be blown off shelves, off tables. Nothing too heavy, but papers, pictures, the game cases-just the light odds and ends that laid around. But the more he dwelled on it, the more he contemplated on how much of a loss it was for the core to slip right through his fingers-and what was more, to lose  _two fragments altogether_ -

 _And that now Jack and Anti were communicating, they were both aware-and now that Anti was even beginning to_ **_emerge_ ** _from his mental_ **_tomb_ ** _-_

Feeling his temper snap within him, he couldn’t resist suddenly snatching the cold, half-filled mug of coffee off the table by the sofa and flinging it against the wall. The dark liquid went everywhere, the mug shattered to pieces, leaving fragments of the letters ‘UNT’ scattered across the floor. Frigid eyes glared at the pieces for a long moment, shoes crunching a bit on the smaller ceramic fragments as they were unavoidable with each step in the area at that point-but the wizard then stopped upon hearing a presence behind him.

“So I know I’m a little bit late to the party,” a voice remarked. “But I’m pretty sure that poor cup never actually did anything to you.”

The wizard stopped and turned around to see the other man standing behind him, observing his work. He didn’t lift a hand to do anything-not yet at least. Rather he continued to stare the other man down as the the newcomer continued to observe their surroundings. A soft chuckle issued from the newcomer.

“Yeah, this looks like...quite a tantrum alright-”

_“Are you here to be useful in any way, shape or form?”_

The other stopped. Stared back at him for a moment before shaking his head and moving to pace the room a bit, taking more of the scene in.

“I take it grabbing the core fragment didn’t go over very well, did it?”

“I had an interruption.”

“Really?” The other turned back towards him, looking curious and intrigued. “I thought you took care of the Scandinavian band-”

_“It wasn’t any of them.”_

The other looked over at the wizard before realization seemed to dawn over them. “...Oh. You mean one of the others.”

_“He’s going by the same plan-”_

“Well, I mean, what do you expect?” the newcomer pointed out, tone as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The power among us is disproportionate. Not all of us can be big bad wizards, after all-of _course_ he’d seek an ally in one of the stronger-or at least more significant.”

Blank stared back at the man. “I _should_ just grab you from that body-”

“Ah-ah-ah-” The man wagged a finger at the wizard. “We had a deal.”

 _“And what purpose have you served thus far?”_ Blank demanded. “What were you even _doing_ during that time?”

The other met his gaze, staring back for a moment before tearing his eyes away. “I was checking into a few things. Seeking that which we desire to find most.”

“Another fragment?”

The man shook his head, tracing his hand on the back of the sofa as he paced slowly through the room. “No. The other…” But he looked back up at Blank, seeing no real change in his features. “Jesus." The word came off with a faint puff of breath, a scoff. He looked away for a moment to shake his head again before looking back up at Blank, adding, “You really don’t even remember...do you?”

Blank stared back, eyes just as cold as ever-but this time narrowing just a fraction. _“I remember everything. Everything that's **important** , anyway-"_

“Mmm...yeah, that seems...debatable,” the other pointed out. Watching the wizard eye him, he added, “You remember the things, but not the sentiments attached to it-”

 _“I remember the sentiments as well.”_ A pause, followed by, “You need to remain focused on our first priority-”

“I _am_ focusing on our first priority,” the newcomer shot back.

“Things have changed-”

“Things _always_ change,” the newcomer pointed out, his smile suddenly tight. “But not _that_. Not until we find-”

_“Retineo.”_

The newcomer suddenly flew back, pressed against the wall on the opposite side of the room as if hit and pinned by an incoming vehicle. He gasped as the air was knocked out of him, struggling to lift his limbs from the wall and yet having no success whatsoever. The wizard looked away from the ceramic fragments on the floor to gaze coldly upon at the target straight-on, slowly letting his hand drop. He kicked some of the larger fragments away as he made leisurely strides across the room to finally come to a stop before the newcomer. He took a long moment to look the other in the eyes-green fragments meeting green fragments-before he finally spoke.

“We find and take the other fragments. That priority rules above all else,” Blank affirmed. “Find yourself distracted again, and our little deal is off.” He tilted his head slightly, continuing to look the other in the eyes. “...Understand?”

The other stared back, letting another long silence linger between them before he finally looked away in a somewhat irritable gesture, then looked back at the wizard.

“...Understood,” he replied.

The corners of Blank’s mouth twitched upward for a fleeting moment before he finally turned and started walking away, easily lifting a hand. _“Exsolvo.”_

Whatever invisible bindings held the newcomer to the wall seemed to disappear, letting the other drop and draw in a deeper breath. He brushed himself off, staring at the other’s back with narrowed eyes before finally opening his mouth to speak again.

“Alright,” the newcomer said, giving the wizard a look. “ _You_ want to catch the others? Then where are they?” He took a step closer, adding, “To be entirely honest, I’m surprised you haven’t already followed the two that escaped.”

“I’ve been putting out feelers,” Blank countered, making his way back out to the backyard. “It seems Fischbach’s fragment is able to go quite the distance.”

The newcomer tilted his head. “...Huh." He moved to follow, continuing, "I take it that’s his schtick then? Teleportation?”

Blank smiled wryly, shaking his head. “Oh no. No, no, no-well. Yes _and_ no, really.” He looked back at his companion, adding, “It actually seems to be very limited. More so than usual. Only along leyline currents to arcane clusters specifically.”

“Well, what do you expect? He’s probably one of the weakest out of all of us.”

“He _is_ the weakest out of all of us.” Blank’s smile then became somewhat critical, almost pitying as he added, “Besides _you._ ”

His companion let out small, dry chuckle as he shook his head. In spite of the jab, Blank could hear the smirk in his companion's voice as he walked on past. “You have yet to even _witness_ what I’m capable of,” the companion pointed out.

“Your ability is _weak_ -”

“Oh, maybe. I’ll give you that much, at least,” the other agreed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “But sometimes it’s not all about the strength of your power-right? _It’s how you use it._ ”

Blank let out a scoff. “Let me know when you have that all figured out.”

The other rolled his eyes, watching the other pace about the yard, finally reaching a point in the corner of the yard where the air seemed to distort, to shimmer in and out in red. Silence fell over the area-he knew the wizard was focusing, letting his hand glide into the cluster as lines of magic blue and green flowed up the fingertips and into the hand. Shuffling a little bit as he watched, he finally looked around as he puffed out a sigh, taking in the area. But a couple more minutes of silence and he finally looked back at the other, deciding to risk breaking his concentration once more-consequences be damned.

Blank could handle it.

He _was_ the big bad wizard, after all.

“...So do you at least want to _hear_ the information that I worked so hard to get?”

Another silence filled the backyard as Blank continued to focus on the leylines, doing his best to pin down a location. The other huffed flatly, opening his mouth to take the silence as a ‘yes’ and continue. But before another word could slip past his lips, Blank beat him to the punch.

“They’re in Ireland.”

The companion frowned slightly and tilted his head slightly. “What?”

“Our two lost fragments are in Ireland.” The wizard turned to look back at the other with a somewhat smug look on his face. “And you’ll never guess where.”

The companion stared back at him for a moment before finally looking away, unable to resist the light grin that entered into his voice. “And they say you can never go home again.”

Blank smirked. “Dublin is about to turn into a battleground,” he noted.

“One more time,” the companion murmured. Noticing Blank’s attention suddenly redirected to one of the second-story windows, he tilted head slightly in intrigue. “...Someone here?” he asked, twisting around to look up at the house as well. It wasn’t fast enough to see for sure but-he definitely noticed the curtain rustle, as if falling back into place from being moved only moments ago.

Blank’s eyes remained fixated on the window for a few more moments before he finally tore them away to look back at his companion. “The last fragment. He’s here-”

The companion seemed alarmed, immediately twisting around to look back up at the window-but again, seeing nothing. “...I’m guessing we should go after-” But his words dropped off as he saw a colored light of sorts light up through the cracks of the curtain, then dim as if it never even was. He looked back at Blank as if searching for answers-or at least any sign of a _go_ to check it out-but then wizard finally dropped his eyes from the window and shook his head.

“Leave him,” Blank concluded. “He’s already gone anyway.” A slight smirk twisted on his lips, adding, “We’ll find him in Dublin.”

He then stepped forward, crossing the yard to lightly rest a hand on his companion’s shoulder as he added, _“We’ll find them all in Dublin.”_

And suddenly they were gone.

* * *

 

The bus ride seemed to take longer than it actually did.

Long and mostly in hushed tones which only sounded louder and crazier than it actually was on the mostly-quiet bus. Jack sat mostly in silence, struggling to take it all in, staring at Mark with pursed lips and a tense expression.

Mark himself struggled to go over the details in general, struggled not to remember everything that went on back there too intensely. Tried to depersonalize it, tried to remove himself from some of the emotional weight that had all but crushed him in the days, weeks, months following their escape.

By the time the bus arrived at its destination, the American looked worn-no doubt about that. He looked like he'd aged probably five-ten more years and the Irishman who sat there and intently listened to it all looked...like he was struggling to believe it? Like he was trying so hard not to be angry at points-but-

"Look-" Mark finally sighed, rubbing his eyes. "When all of that happened we were... _so close_ to losing you. For a stupidly long time we truly thought we _did._ That last fight we had against Anti...we had _no_ idea how that would actually end. We didn’t know what it would really end up doing to Anti, and we had no idea what it would end up doing to you. None of us actually know anything about magic, not really, so…” He shook his head as the bus came to a stop- _their stop_ , wherever that was-and moved to get to his feet. Still, as the Irishman followed, he didn’t quite move from their spot just yet, letting the other passengers shuffle off the bus before them. “What we did? It was all just a shot in the dark that we hoped made enough sense but was also just crazy enough to work. And what we got from it…”

“Was me in a coma,” Jack finished.

“And with no sign of recovering your memories. Or _anything_ that would’ve been your old self,” Mark added. He let out a small scoff at their own arrogance, their confidence that doing such a last-minute idea without even so much as thinking it through could even _possibly_ be worth the risk-especially with the steps they ended up taking. “To be honest, we didn’t even know if it would actually be _you_ when you woke up. For all we knew-and dreaded-it could’ve been Anti. All Anti, not just...not just _part._ ”

Jack frowned, watching as Mark finally moved to shift out of the seat and into the aisle, shuffling towards the exit. He quickly moved to follow, looking around as they stepped off the bus and onto the busy sidewalk. Mark was looking around, trying to adjust to the new area overall-Jack was well enough used to it. Not that he'd been to Dublin a ton of times before, granted, but he'd certainly visited more times than _Mark._ He walked several paces on forward, making sure to get out of the people's way and giving his friend's sleeve a small tug to ensure he followed as well.

Finally he looked up at Mark with a small sigh. "So once I woke up then? Did you really _have_ to lie?"

Mark looked back at him guiltily before shaking his head. "It's just..." he sighed. "You just came out of such an unstable condition. I mean-my god, it was a freaking five-month _coma._ And based on what we'd figured out back in the mansion, we...we actually concluded that all that memory loss you suffered was partly due to having to remember _so much_ from all of those loops you'd gone through already. We were afraid telling you the truth would help you to remember all those horrifying things...that you would risk losing all of your memories all over again, that we would risk losing _you._ "

Jack struggled to process all of this, muttering, "Or that I would end up being the same as I was back in the mansion," he muttered. "A nervous wreck."

"I mean, that's possible too."

Jack finally puffed out a sigh and shook his head. "Well," he remarked. "Possessed by a possible devil really isn't much better-"

"I know."

"I still...it doesn't seem like that much better of an idea _not_ telling me because again-I could've seriously hurt someone if Anti managed to take control."

Mark frowned. "In fairness," he pointed out. "We didn't know _that_ had a possibility to happen either. Once you woke up normal and all? We...we actually weren't entirely sure _what_ happened to Anti after we did the spell, so..."

"And when Dark showed up?"

Mark shook his head. "When Dark showed up..." The American let out a sigh. "It's complicated. Dark is generally kind of trying to keep his distance for the most part."

Jack frowned slightly, eyeing Mark. "Yeah?" He shook his head as they started aimlessly down the sidewalk. After all, they got to the city, so...the real unspoken question was 'now what?' 'Where to now?' "I can't exactly say the same goes at all for Blank."

"Yeah, well Blank's more powerful than Dark," Mark pointed out. "Hell, according to Dark, _Anti's_ probably stronger than he is. Something about being the 'core'? That's why he- _reluctantly_ -showed up on your doorstep during Blank's attack."

Jack's face scrunched slightly and he glanced over at the other. "He wants Anti as an ally?"

"Something like that." Mark shook his head. "Besides, I didn't want to leave _you_ undefended and clueless either. I think the other part of that was just trying to get me to shut up."

In spite of everything, Jack couldn't help a small smirk. "I guess you can't win over everyone as a fan."

"Yeah, yeah." Mark rolled his eyes. "I guess so."

As the two finally reached the corner, Mark looked around and gave a shrug. "So then," he asked. "Before we continue- _where exactly are we going?_ "

"Um..." Jack let out another sigh, running a hand back through his hair as he looked around. "That _is_ a very good question that we never quite came up with an answer to. We've reached the step of being closer to civilization, so..."

"Not to mention a more populated area," Mark pointed out as his eyes scanned the crowds. "I doubt even Blank would want to use any major magical attacks while we're in an area like this."

"We can hope anyway," Jack sighed, letting his hand drop. "Okay, uh-okay. Yeah, so let's figure out the best thing to do here. I guess if my electronics are suspect, then using my phone is out of the question in the meantime-" The Irishman made sure his phone was turned off before pocketing it again. "And yours?"

"American. It probably won't work here," Mark pointed out. "Not for phone calls, at least."

“Dammit,” Jack hissed under his breath. He sighed and ran a hand back through his hair as he looked around. “...Well…”

He blinked a few times as they stepped out of the shade of the building, his eyes shifting to adjust to the light-only to be hit with what seemed almost like an odd sort of green static overlay. He could see green translucent figures striding up and down the street like ghosts, horses trotting along cobblestone that _no longer existed-_

Mark stared back at him, a light, concerned frown resting on his face. “...Jack…?”

It took a moment to rouse Jack from his reverie, but finally he shook his head and looked back at Mark, blinking a few times as if to clear it of spots. “...Yeah?”

“You hanging in there alright?”

“Uh…” Jack frowned and looked around again, noticing the overlay was gone. “Yeah.”

“Convincing.”

Jack shook his head again, running a hand back through his hair and looking over at Mark-opening his mouth, closing it again in an attempt to gather his thoughts, then opening it again. “Um-so you know how you mentioned that everybody affected by the book seems to have at least one...kind of weird thing they can do?”

Mark raised an eyebrow and gave him a sort of sideways, analyzing look. “...Yeah…?”

“Do you have any idea what _my_ thing would be yet?”

Mark continued to study him, frown deepening as he shook his head. “...No.”

Jack looked around again, biting his lip. His vision was clear again, _he had no idea what that overlay just was or if he could even replicate it again or if it would ever actually come in handy-_

“...Jack?”

“Oh-! Uh-” Jack finally looked back at Mark, looking only slightly puzzled as he gestured around. “I uh-I’m not really sure how to put this but-”

_“But?”_

“...I think I can see through time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Finally, next chapter is up and ready to go! I'm thinking we can finally start picking up the pace and moving the story along right about here, so buckle your seatbelts~ In the meantime, thanks so much for the support, it means so much for inspiration, ideas, and just getting this story posted in general! So if you liked it, drop a kudo, drop a comment, and I'll be seeing you all in the next chapter. Until then!


	5. Chapter 4

Mark stared back at him, seeming about as much at a loss as he was before finally speaking.

“...What.”

Jack started to shrug, but Mark’s face was already scrunching up in an attempt to actually _process_ this. “...You mean like you’re _psychic?_ ”

Jack held his hands out at his sides, a helpless expression on his features. “Maybe?” he asked. “It’s not really what I’d typically think when I hear the word ‘psychic’, but…!”

“Well...well what brought this on?” Mark asked, a mixture of alarm, curiosity, and concern on his features. “...Was it what we talked about on the bus-?”

“No, no, I don’t think it was really that-”

“How far back did you even _see?_ ”

Jack stopped in his words to take a moment, to consider everything he saw. He processed the overlay he saw only moments ago before finally responding. “I saw...people,” he said. “Horses. Wagons. _Cobblestone, Mark._ ” He looked back out at the paved streets as he added, “Whatever time period it was from, it definitely wasn’t anytime _recent._ ”

“Any idea of what triggered it?” Mark asked. “And you didn’t exactly seem to...you know, full-on space. Or...eyes rolled up into the head or anything-”

“Yeah, no, I don’t really think it’s anything like that. It’s more like-” Jack gestured around again. “It’s really weird. Like someone just kind of overlayed two images into one. I’m still able to see the present reality, but it’s almost like...like there’s a sort of _ghostly holographic filter_ overlapping it.”

Mark eyed the other, almost suspicious of this newfound power-when he spoke, his voice bordered on reluctance, albeit morbid curiosity.

“...Do you think you could do it again?”

Jack blinked, looking over at him curiously. “...What?”

“Do you think you’d be able to do it again?” Mark repeated.

Jack made a face at his, looking around, then back at Mark. “Why would I want to do that?”

“I don’t know-I just-” Mark shook his head and gestured around. “I mean, _do we have a better plan?_ We’re in Dublin and besides the fact that it’s apparently where Anti even came from, we don’t really know why. We don’t really have any idea on what we’re actually going to _do_ about this situation without having to resort to outright murder-”

“Fair point,” Jack mumbled, now considering. He looked around, blue eyes sweeping the area as he tried to focus.

_Concentrate.._

_Concentrate…_

**_Concentrate…_ **

But finally his features scrunched up a bit and he looked over at Mark, bringing a hand up to the side of his head before letting out a small sigh. He shook his head, letting the hand run back down to his neck with a slight air of defeat.

“I’m getting nothing now,” he confessed. “I...don’t really know how I even managed to pull it off the _first_ time. I’m not sure how I’d be able to replicate it now.”

Mark frowned and let out a sigh of his own. “Right. _Dangit._ Okay. In that case, I guess we need to come up with some sort of a Plan B,” he noted.

“I mean, making sure we covered some of the basics might not be the worst idea,” Jack pointed out. “Place to sleep, mainly. If we don’t have any real plans of actually leaving town anyway.”

“Pretty sure we don’t,” Mark confirmed. “Not unless we absolutely _have_ to leave town or unless we find any other kind of lead.”

“Yeah. So uh...right then.” Jack looked around, watching the people mill by them on the street and suddenly appreciative of his choice to put on pants before recording-for once. He pursed his lips, slightly uncertain of where to go-he was back in Ireland, he was in Dublin, so it wasn’t extreme culture shock, but it certainly was a far cry from home. _He wasn’t entirely sure of specific locations in the city like where to stay._

He scratched his head, looking a little bit at a loss before finally gathering his thoughts together-enough to come up with some sensible enough options anyway. “Well-okay. Okay, um. So if I remember Dublin...decently at all at least, which I probably don’t but-” He looked around. “We’re kind of on a main street. There’s a bunch of big landmarks here-uh-Dublin Castle...Trinity College?”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “...Okay…?”

Jack shook his head. “What I mean is that it’s super busy here! It draws a lot of tourists. So where there’s going to be a lot of tourists-”

“There’s bound to be some sort of a tourism office. Or a town visitor’s center,” Mark finished, realization dawning in his voice. "We could go there, figure out accommodations, start working out a plan of some kind..."

“Yeah!”

“Alright-well-” Mark pointed down one way, then the other. “The street goes both ways. Which way are we most likely to find what we need?”

“Uh…” Jack turned one way, then the other, taking everything in. He paused for a moment before suddenly hurrying to a street corner, peering around the building to try and get a look down the the next street-then twisting around to try and see the other way. Mark raised an eyebrow as he watched.

“What are you looking for-?”

“The Liffey,” Jack pointed out. “It cuts the city in half, north and south. If you follow this street east...I think it takes you to Trinity College before it finally stops. That’s where we’re likely to find anything.”

Mark raised the other eyebrow before shrugging slightly and turning away but sticking somewhat nearby, leaving Jack to his own machinations.

It was a couple minutes later when he caught the Irishman by the arm. “Hey…”

Jack twisted around to look back at him, a questioning look on his face.

“Hey-”

“Yeah?”

Mark nodded in one direction of the street in short explanation. “It’s over this way.”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. How the fuck did Mark suddenly seem to know-? “Dark?”

Mark shook his head. “Nah. I asked somebody.” In spite of their situation, he couldn’t quite suppress the tiny cheeky grin that crept up into his eyes.

Jack rolled his own in response. “Yeah, yeah…” he muttered as a faint chuckle escaped the American. “Show-off.”

“C’mon, let’s see if we can find any form of help down this way,” Mark encouraged, moving to head down the street. The Irishman followed, the two mostly in silence as they took in the city around them, navigating the crowds and doing whatever they could to keep a low profile.

Not that they really minded fans or anything, but now was _really not the time._

Besides, best they get a somewhat vague idea of the way the city ran, if nothing else. Who knew when they’d potentially run into trouble and needed to make a quick getaway?

But probably very much _unlike_ what Mark was experiencing, there continued to be the occasional green static flicker, as if Jack’s brain was wired into some sort of really bad connection. It was...weird. Every time he seemed to reach out, to try and grasp it, to hold on for even a moment, it would all disperse and restore a clear reality. He never thought he’d have too much of a problem with this but…

The two passed what looked like the outside of a fortress, what he vaguely recognized as Dublin Castle. A fixed gaze-the static suddenly seemed to snap back on again and suddenly he could see angry green ghosts crowding the outside, just their outlines quivering with rage as they shook fists and what-have-you. He couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering on two particular people, a young man and woman, the woman in a dress, wearing her hair in a long braid, the man dressed like a sort of medieval farmer.

He couldn’t _hear_ the shouts and chants, not really-but his mind’s ear did a fine enough job at projecting them. He could feel his legs coming to a stop but it somehow didn’t quite seem to register. He couldn’t stop staring at the ghostly crowd outside of their time, couldn’t stop staring at the couple, at the girl.

_Who is she?_

The silent call went unanswered. Jack’s brows furrowed further, unable to help the tiniest step he took towards the scene.

“Jack?”

Jack glanced back at Mark, blinking a few times before gesturing back at the castle entrance.

“Just saw an...angry mob of...protesters, I think,” Jack explaining, feeling as awkward as he sounded. Mark’s frown deepened, looking off towards the castle before shaking his head. “Uh-”

“Yeah, it’s the, uh, looking through time thing again,” Jack explained, rubbing the back of his head with a sigh. “I’m...not really sure of the relevance, to be honest. Actually-I’m not sure if _anything_ I’m seeing is really all that relevant at all.”

“So you really can’t control it.”

Jack shook his head. “Not really. No, I don’t think so.” He gave a helpless shrug. “No control over when it comes and goes and...not really so much in time period either. Although-I will say, judging by the clothes and the look of the overall area, it at least seems to be somewhat consistent.”

“And you’re doing this...without Anti’s help at all?”

Jack blinked, giving Mark a sideways look. “Yeah,” he replied. “What? You can’t teleport unless Dark’s in control?”

“So far,” Mark replied, looking a bit confused. “To be honest, I didn’t think you _could_ use these new powers without the fragment taking control. Not unless you were already a wizard like Ethan, at least.”

Jack gave a shrug at this, looking just as mystified as Mark was. “Well,” he noted. “I guess we’re just learning more and more as we go, huh?” He let out a sigh, adding, “Now if only we could find someone around here who could maybe give us some answers, maybe some form of direc-”

His words dropped off as his vision flickered again, once, twice-five times total before it finally stabilized somewhat-

He could see her.

The braided woman in the dress, the one who’d been standing by the castle gates in such anger. Her back was mostly turned towards him, but she gave an almost half-turn towards him and waved her hand, putting down a firm foot to show her impatience.

He wasn’t sure if it was Anti's instincts or his own that compelled him to follow.

“...Jack-?” Mark asked with alarm, watching as Jack slowly walked forward and past him, eyes focused on seemingly nothing at all.

“I see her…” Jack merely muttered in response, but his voice was distracted, almost absent. But then he seemed to regain his bearings, clearing his throat once or twice to add a bit more firmly, “One of the people I saw from the protest outside the castle. I think she’s leading somewhere-”

“ _What?”_

“Yeah! She’s… Look, I don’t _know_ for sure. I don’t know _anything_ for sure, but something tells me there’s a reason she turned up just now-right?”

Jack wasn’t stopping. Mark didn’t really have much choice but to take up quick pursuit, pushing past the occasional gaggle of civilians and tourists.

“Yeah but- _Jack!”_

“We don’t really have much of a plan at the moment, right? What’s the harm in following for now?” Jack called back. “If it turns out to be nothing at all, we can go back and head to the tourism office. Promise!”

The woman didn’t seem to be stopping-which made it all the more difficult to follow once they hit a point of needing to cross the street, not waiting at _all_ for the traffic to pass and the walk sign to turn. Jack never took his eyes off her though, almost afraid that it would disappear the moment he did-he didn’t want to take that risk. Rather, he watched as best he could through the people, through the cars, and the second the light changed he rushed on forward as quickly as he could, closing the newfound distance between them as best as he could manage. Mark followed along as closely behind as he was able, not wanting to lose his friend in this strange new city-especially with a homicidal _wizard_ on their tail.

Along and down the block, the woman thankfully sticking mostly to the sidewalk although occasionally drifting a bit more into the road from time to time in maneuvering through ghostly crowds. She passed through person and object alike, no one else really seeming to notice-herself included. There was a point once or twice where Jack about caught up with the woman, walking almost almost directly behind her, on her heels-every time he was in such a position and looked down, he could see a ghostly green arm extended from him, starting at a shorter height (shorter than her, although not by much) and grasping her own tightly-as if she was tugging him along down their path-

Or as if tugging Anti along in some old, long-forgotten memory.

He had the feeling she was speaking, but he heard no voice. He wondered if this newfound power would ever actually get to that point; it would certainly make incidences like these that much easier-or maybe not. He could only imagine the intense layering of sound that would come with such a thing But instead he followed along blindly, wondering where they were headed-

One block then a turn onto the street. Mostly pedestrian, he noted, and with an increasing number of tourists. His eyes flickered around as he noticed all the people, noticed how it was getting more and more difficult to follow the apparition. It was getting to the point that he was having to quickly twist and maneuver around groups, push through the occasional huddles, no longer a straight path. It all looked even _more_ crowded, even _more_ confusing as he was seeing overlapping images. People from centuries ago, people from today-horses and wagons and bicycles, all in a confusing whirl that merged and pulled apart, collided into each other and phased right on through. He knew Mark must be having just as much difficulty following, but didn’t want to risk pulling his concentration away, to look back for fear of losing sight of the ghostly woman.

Not until she led them to wherever she was going, anyway.

“Mark?” he called back, hoping to get a response. Although if he didn’t, it wouldn’t have surprised him too much either-he had no doubt in his mind how difficult it must be for Mark to hear him over everyone else and all the surrounding city ruckus, especially with back turned.

“Yeah! Here, Jack. I’m right here.”

Mark’s voice came from somewhere behind him-thankfully not too far off but a bit further than he would’ve liked. He reached out behind him, felt someone grab his sleeve and hang on tight. It was good enough.

One block past-crossing the street to the next one over, in one direction he could see the vague outline of the Liffey and the city split-in the other the main road that extended from Trinity College and beyond. They hit the next corner, began to walk along the next block. Tourist shops aplenty, restaurants, murals on the wall-the area was vibrant and buzzing. A neon sign to a club here, a music shop there, plenty of bars and pubs-

And then finally they reached a particular pub on the next corner, right where things were starting to calm down a little bit. Still busy, still thriving-but not nearly as jam-packed as the other areas.

The woman stopped. Released the ghostly hand she held, extended from his own form. Turned towards him-he thought she was looking into his eyes, but he just wasn’t quite short enough, didn’t quite match the height difference of what must’ve surely been a younger Anti.

But her expression was intense, hardened. Her features were that of a young woman, unyielding and strong. Determined. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was she said, but she seemed agitated over something. But before he could even attempt to guess the answer, she suddenly turned around and headed inside, a ghostly image of the door swinging open where the closed one stood in reality.

“What is this place…?” Mark muttered behind him, releasing his sleeve and treading around just a few extra feet to try and get a better look at the sign.

“I…” Jack shook his head slightly, feeling almost embarrassed so much excitement and divergence from their original plan seemed to come with such a low payoff. “I don’t really know. I know that we're around Temple Bar though...? You can kinda tell from all the tourists...”

The pub in question was old-older than most of the surrounding structures-with a sort of rustic traditional charm to it. A sign was nailed above the door, a painted green rectangle framed in the natural brown of the wood, gold-colored letters etched across.

_Trinity Pub._

“Why are we…?” Jack whispered, gazing upon the age-old structure. “Why are we _here?_ ” His eyes flickered over the edifice, looking for literally _anything_ of importance pertaining to their current situation. “What’s the importance of _this_ place?”

“Your visions didn’t really tell you anything?” Mark asked.

Jack hesitantly shook his head, mind running a million miles an hour. He licked his lips before replying. “...No,” he replied. “No, I don’t really...hear my visions at all. I just see them.”

Mark frowned. “So we’ve just been following some random ghost then?”

Jack shook his head. “Not random, I don’t think, no,” he replied. He cleared his throat, glancing down at his own hand. “I saw the same woman at the protest in front of the castle… And...whenever I would look down, she was holding my hand. Or...Anti’s hand. I don’t really know, but it _was_ kind of coming from a first-person perspective-at least sometimes.” He looked back at Mark. “I think she was definitely someone _relevant_ , if nothing else.”

“But that...doesn’t really help us,” Mark concluded, frowning. “Does it?” He shrugged in response to Jack’s own, gesturing up towards the sign. “I mean, we don’t even know if this is the same _establishment-_ ”

“Oh, it’s the same,” Jack replied with confidence.

Mark gave him a questioning, sideways look. Jack gestured up at the sign.

“Even after all this time, the front hasn’t changed. The sign definitely hasn’t changed, except that I think it used to be an inn, too?" Jack shrugged. "I think it’s always been up there.” Albeit...changed and probably redone once or twice, but the name of the place certainly remained the same.

“So you’re thinking this is some place Anti might’ve frequented back in life?” Mark asked. Jack’s eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“...Maybe,” he replied. “I mean-I’m not really sure of anything at this point, but…” He moved to take a few steps forward to the entrance, resting a hand on the handle as he looked back at Mark. “If we’re going to get a handle on this whole situation...I think we need to know more about magic. More about Anti. Otherwise we’re just fumbling around in the dark without even the faintest clue of what to do next or how to help out our friends...right?”

Mark shrugged in response, looking around. “I mean…” But he then let out a sigh, shuffling his feet and scratching his head. “...Yeah, I mean, you’re probably right about that.”

“Either way,” Jack muttered, eyeing the pub somewhat warily, bracing himself for just about anything. “It’s a _pub._ In the middle of _Dublin._ What all could happen in a place like this…right?”

Mark sucked in an anxious breath and shook his head. “We can hope,” he seconded, moving in a bit closer to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I reached my Camp NaNoWriMo goal and now have at least a couple new chapters ready to be posted-but in the meantime, enjoy this one! I think I have a good idea of how things are gonna be going now, so things should be starting to pick up pretty soon~ In the meantime, thanks so much for all the support, it really means a lot with inspiration and posting! So if you liked it, drop a kudo, drop a comment, and I'll be seeing you all in the next chapter. Until then!


	6. Chapter 5

Jack swung the door open, stepping inside the old building…

…And was immediately hit by more than just current reality.

He suspected it wasn’t one overlay. Probably not even two. Just multiples upon multiples, he stood frozen in the doorway as he could see ghosts move about the room in different speeds, similar if not outright the  _same_ people walking, running, sitting and talking and laughing and crying. Children darting through and playing, teenagers working the bar or waitressing. Older and younger, healthy and sick and injured, the static around the edges of his vision was growing stronger, increasingly more intense-

He could feel a small tear slip from one of his eyes and down his cheek, unable to push back the overwhelming nostalgia of some place he’d never been, but surely spent half his life-

“Jack?” Mark asked, reaching out to place a hand on the Irishman’s shoulder.

Jack blinked, the illusion falling away from his vision as he twisted around to look back at Mark, startled. “Huh?”

Mark looked as caught off-guard as he was, pointing out the tear on his friend’s cheek. “You’ve just got a little…something. Right there…”

Jack reached up to touch the tear with a couple of fingers, finally noticing its wetness. “O-oh…” he muttered. “Sorry. I don’t…really think I know what came over me just now.”

“It’s okay,” Mark reassured softly, watching as Jack wiped his eyes with sleeve. “I…actually kinda feel it too.”

A young woman with long, straight red hair moved past the two, carrying a large tray filled with plates and condiments. She stopped for a moment, looking back at them curiously. “Hm? Oh-” She gave a quick nod to one of the nearby empty tables. “Sorry-feel free to sit wherever you want. One of us will be with you shortly.”

“Uh-well actually-” Jack started, but the woman was already hurrying to the table, eager to take the weight off her arms. He and Mark exchanged baffled looks and a shrug, seeming more than a little unclear as to what exactly they should do next.

“Well…” Mark muttered under his breath. “This  _is_  kind of your show.”

“ _My_  show?” Jack hissed back. “I just followed some sort of ghost of the past to this place and I’m  _still_  trying to figure out the significance. But it  _is_  still significant if Anti and Dark are both kind of wigging out about this. Don’t you agree?”

“I mean-yes-” Mark began, shuffling somewhat, unable to keep still. So he finally gestured to the suggested table. “I guess either way, it’s not like we really have much of a better plan in place right now. We may as well…”

“Yeah, maybe we can find something out about this place or its relevance to Anti and Dark in the meantime. Or even something that could actually  _help_  with this whole situation entirely-hell, I'd settle just for that much. Of course, this is all providing they don’t wake up until then,” Jack muttered. Which reminded him-he gave a quick, mental prod to the entity within his head, curious if it would respond back or not-

It didn’t.

Vaguely Jack wondered if it was somewhat the same as Dark with Mark, if Anti was taking a nap after the whole backyard fiasco. He  _did_  seem to try and push things past the breaking point-which, yeah, warned him that he needed to get the hell out immediately and kinda gave him some form of idea as to what the hell was going on now, what he needed to expect-at least somewhat. But judging by the state he last saw the entity in, it definitely came at a price and took a significant toll on him. And then there was the other question he silently wondered, but wasn’t about to fully voice just yet-

Would it actually get that much worse if Anti  _were_  to wake up?

...Probably.

In fact, almost no doubt about that.

“Um-” Jack looked around as they moved to take a seat at the table. “Alright, well-if we’re going to try and get any kind of information that can maybe help us in any way, shape or form-especially without us sounding  _too_  crazy-” He looked around, searching the area.  _Nothing was really giving them any sort of clues, was it?_  “We need to at least know who it is we’re asking about. Mark, did you ever get any kind of a name from Dark? Anything at all? Because if they  _do_  know anything about this entity, they’re not really going to know who it is we’re actually asking about without a name.”

“Won’t they?” Mark asked, raising an eyebrow at Jack. “I dunno, you know-I feel like all we really  _should_  have to mention is ‘hey, did a magical crazy guy with evil tendencies ever pass through this place in the past’ and that should probably suffice.”

Jack snerked and rolled his eyes at the thought in spite of himself. “Well I mean-fair point-” he confessed.

The same woman from earlier suddenly sped on over (from the other side of the pub?) with a large grin on her face, coming to a stop at their table. Her green eyes were wide with excitement, her body practically bouncing with energy. “…Oh my god, it  _is_ yeh guys-!” she exclaimed. She looked off to the other end of the pub for a moment, seeming to exchange a grin, then looked back at them.

Jack smiled a tiny bit and gave a small ‘hi’, although not nearly as much as he normally would. Oof, he’d normally be up for meeting fans but-now was definitely not one of those times.  _Especially_  when he didn’t trust himself with the entity that he now  _knew_  for sure was all holed up inside. So he looked over at Mark, who…thankfully seemed a little bit more prepared than him.

Maybe because he had more of an idea of just how much longer Dark would be out for.

Or maybe because he covered this sort of thing in dealings with Dark, he actually had the  _time_  and  _awareness_  to-really, who could tell?

“Yeah, it’s us,” Mark replied, meeting the woman with a smile-although Jack had known him long enough to recognize it as only half-genuine as well.

“What brings yeh two here?”

“Well, we heard this place had some pretty good food, so…”

The redhead blinked, then nodded. “Right!” She held up a finger. “Just one moment!”

The woman rushed off to the bar, Jack looking over at Mark to whisper, “Alright, this might’ve actually been a mistake-”

“I mean, it was bound to happen sooner or later-”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to deal with  _fans_  right now! Not in this state and not when we’ve got psychotic wizards chasing after us-!”

“Hey-hey-look on the bright side-maybe this way they’ll be more open to giving us information.”

“We still don’t have  _that much_  figured out yet-!”

“We’ll just ask about the pub-”

The redhead returned with a couple of menus and glasses of water, setting them down on the table before them. “Here yeh go. I’d recommend the stew-it’s actually rather good-” Her grin widened a bit-if that was even possible-as she added, “My name’s Orien, by the way. What brings yeh to these parts?”

The two men exchanged glances, silent for a moment. Finally Jack decided to be the one to speak up. “Uhm…” he began. He shifted a bit, eyeing Orien. “Mark and I happened to be in the country at the same time, so I was just sort of…showing him around a bit.” He then cleared his throat, motioning to the rest of the pub. He was obviously anxious to redirect off that topic as quickly as possible. “But that being said! I mentioned outside how just about every place in Dublin has some history to it? Um-I’m sure this place isn’t any different, right?”

“History?” Orien gave them a sideways look, almost caught off guard by the question, but continued to grin. “Well-yeah! This place has been around for ages. Uh-13th century, in fact? It’s one of Ireland’s oldest pubs, and one of Dublin’s first.”

“That old?” Mark asked. “That’s pretty impressive.” He looked around, adding, “This must be the sight of a lot of history…”

“Oh, trust me-it is!” Orien replied. “It’s mostly owned by the O’Leary family and has been passed down through generations. Actually…” She looked back towards the door, then back at them. “If you’d like to learn more about it from the current manager, that could probably be arranged.”

“Really?” Jack asked, perking up with a bit of curiosity and interest. “I mean-if it’s not too much trouble-”

“No, not at all! We’re more than happy to help-and George O’Leary just so happens to be our granddad. Just-one moment, hm?”

“We…?” Jack repeated softly as Orien bustled over towards the door. “Our…?”

“Huh…” Mark muttered, but then their gaze followed the redhead to the door, seeing an identical woman already speaking with an old man.

A twin sister.

“… _Oh._ ”

The twins cheerfully spoke with the man, who then looked their way with an inquisitive look. Jack couldn’t help but shift slightly in his seat, suddenly feeling a might bit uncomfortable. Something about those slate blue eyes were just…they were  _positively piercing._  He debated asking Mark if he shared the sentiment at all but…no, he was likely just being paranoid.  _Of course_  he was just being paranoid.

But then again…seeing as this was a place that likely held some sort of significant bearing to Anti’s past and all that…

Ah, no, how much should they really be worried here? As far as he could see, this was nothing more than a frail old man. What sort of risk could he  _possibly_  pose to them outside of calling the police?

The old man gave them a bright smile as he moved to pull a chair up to their table. Either way, he didn’t  _look_ all that threatening, at least. He might’ve been in decent shape now-possibly even a soldier once upon a time-but he had a small shake to his movements, a weakness in his muscles. Even regardless of that though, he maintained the look of amiable cheer on his aged face, bright blue eyes and wisps of white hair on his head.

Jack cast a nervous glance to Mark, uncertain as to why exactly he was suddenly feeling anxious but whispering, “Mark-”

“Well boys,” the old man greeted. “It’s good to meet yeh. I’m George O’Leary, the owner of this pub. You seem to have met my granddaughters, Kally and Orien. They're very excited that yeh two are visiting-I take it yer like celebrities or something of the sort-”

“Uh-something like that,” Mark replied amiably, although Jack had known Mark long enough to detect that there was something noticeable on edge in his tone. He probably sensed that there was something off about this whole thing too. “I think they know us from the internet.”

“The internet? Mm, they mentioned some people were finding work there these days.” The man gave a small shrug. “So I take it you’re…Jack?”

“Oh-no,” Mark gave a small smile. “I’m Mark.” He motioned to Jack. “He’s Jack.”

“Ah, grand, grand. So what exactly was it you were wanting to know? The history to this place is…extensive. The number of stories I could tell about this place would have us here all day-which I wouldn’t entirely mind myself, but I imagine if yer touring, your time is a bit more limited.”

“Well-we don’t really have a set schedule or anything, so…” Jack exchanged a look with Mark, then looked back at him. “How’d this place get started? Orien said it was built all the way back in the 13th century?”

“Yes, yes, actually. The  _Trinity_  is the second-oldest in Dublin-just after the old Brazen Head-and the third-oldest in Ireland. Built rather early into the 13th century, it wasn’t all that long after the Vikings left Dublin, actually-really only by a handful of decades, if I remember right. It was started up by one of my ancestors, Comhghall Lóegaire, and a rather eccentric old noble of Boru's family-a relative of the very king that kicked the Vikings out of the country, in fact. It became a favorite hub and an epicenter of activity as the city began to rise up around it, growing and modernizing with each passing decade, then each passing century. We’ve had many a great figure stop in here for a drink and a meal, an overnight stay-as it’s also served as an inn throughout its time-and even as a place of refuge in times of strife and revolution. We’ve served such icons as Wolfe Tone, Oscar Wilde, William Butler Yeats-in fact, the corner over there is where he would frequent with the revolutionary Constance Markievicz and her sister Eva Gore-Booth to share a meal and discuss art and politics.” He gestured to a corner booth across the room. “Most of the things you see here are actually generally unchanged. Even when we update the area, fix up all the old wood and construction and whatnot, we try and stay true to the original design as much as possible to help maintain and preserve the authenticity of the place.”

Jack couldn’t help but think back to Dublin Castle, to the ghostly mob of angry protesters…of the girl that led them here. “A place of refuge,” he repeated.  _Huh._  “During times of strife and revolution? What’s that about? You mean during the Irish Civil War and…Easter Rising and such?” His examples didn’t come out nearly as easily as he would’ve liked-but if his St. Patrick’s Day videos on attempting to pass Irish history quizzes had anything to say about his overall knowledge on national history, he probably should’ve more than expected it.

“Irish Civil War, Easter Rising…and also events such as the Siege of Dublin and the Battle of Rathmines, you know, back from the Cromwellian invasion.”

That seemed to stir something within the youtuber. Jack frowned slightly. “Cromwell?”

“Yeah, lad, don’t you know your history?”

Mark couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow and-in an almost nostalgic sense if nothing else-grin slightly, adding, “Yeah, Jack, don’t you know your own history-?”

“The rat bastard who invaded Ireland in the mid-17th century and slaughtered thousands, wiping out no less than twenty percent of the nation's total population?”

Mark stopped. Winced. “…Oh.” He then blinked and frowned as if suddenly realizing something-or maybe being told something from within-before exchanging a look with Jack.  _“Oh.”_

 _“Yeah.”_  Jack looked back at George, a frown settling on his features. “Actually, George-the Cromwell stuff was something I was kinda wondering a little bit about because there’s this game that’s coming out on the market-uh, we play video games on the internet for work-” He shook his head. He wasn’t even sure why he was having to lie at this point, the man clearly didn’t know of his channel-but the twins did, apparently, so-

Still, it was such a flimsy lie, he doubted it would be any form of convincing for very long. On one hand it was almost a relief, he hated lying to begin with-

On the other hand, he was doing it all so easily.  _Did he really get that practiced in it back in the mansion?_

Was he really this bad during those times? No wonder the others felt wary about trusting him on all the Anti stuff on...really any level.

He cleared his throat, wanting to inwardly cringe at how (most likely unnecessarily) dishonest he was being to this kindly old man. “Did you ever get any particular figures seeking refuge here around that time? Like…anyone who ever really stood out or…?” He gave a small, attempted-casual shrug. "You know, would there be any chance of possibly seeing a place like this in the game?”

“Hm…” George sat back in contemplation. “Well we never really got any word about such a thing-ah, to be honest, they’d probably use the Brazen before us.” He gave a small shrug.

“Yes, but any particular figures that come to mind that might show up then?” Jack pressed, doing his best not to sound too…direct, too suspicious. “Was there anyone particularly unique in Dublin during that time?”

Jack felt a silent nudge from under the table. Yes, he knew he was dancing a really thin, awkward line of questioning here-it was almost on the brink of just asking about Anti outright. He did his best not to look conspicuous as he glanced over at Mark with a shrug-but huh, that...actually didn't seem to be what he was nudging him about at all? He followed his gaze to the twins that stood by the bar but seemed…not busy.

_Weirdly intent._

_And it didn’t just seem to be in some fascinated fan sort of way._

He couldn’t help it as he sat up and straightened a little bit in his seat, but tried his best to look otherwise calm and casual. Just as much as the two redheads by the bar, anyway. One quick glance stolen at Mark told him the other was already trying to figure out the most surefire escape route out of there-he figured he would trust him with that, in the meantime he’d just try and keep the older man occupied.

_But surely they wouldn’t try anything suspicious_ **_here_  ** _, would they?_

Sure this place didn’t have…a lot…of customers at the moment. They were far too early for the lunch rush, after all. But this  _was_ their territory, and if it was a site Anti once frequented in the past…

Something was already  _very_  off-kilter with this place, and honestly Jack wouldn’t be entirely surprised if it had a reputation for such a thing. For all he knew, locals might not even give such an event a second glance.

“Mm-hm…” George thought for several long moments, shifting a bit in his seat. “You know, actually, I do vaguely remember something from the old logs-we have those stored up in the attic, you know. They’re surprisingly thorough, keeps loads of records of former visitors, residents, tabs- I  _did_  find an old book about six years or so ago, sounded a little bit familiar to something my great-granddad told me about actually.”

Jack frowned slightly, actually caught off guard that the old man was…being so surprisingly cooperative. And even helpful, for that matter. It was really  _more_  than what he expected. He leaned forward somewhat, eager to hear what he had to say.

George looked thoughtful, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed. “Something about a family…from around the mid-17th century, if I recall. Just before Cromwell. Really only a handful of people. Large handful, mind, but a handful all the same. Mostly…young. Babbies, really.” He then straightened a bit-leaned forward-and then looked Jack directly in the eyes.

_“But you still remember all of that. Don’t you, Doran-?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long since the last update, and it might be similar for the next chapter since I've dealing with some writer's block, a depression funk and am about to go back to school-ah, but I think I might've moved past the block, at least. Still, I'm not a huge fan of this particular chapter, but it should hopefully go a lot more smoothly for anything following. In the meantime, thanks so much for the support, it means so much for inspiration, ideas, and just getting this story posted in general! So if you liked it, drop a kudo, drop a comment, and I'll be seeing you all in the next chapter. Until then!


	7. Chapter 6

_'WE NEED TO GO. RIGHT NOW!’_

Jack wasn’t sure what startled him more-the old man or the sudden shot of adrenaline released into his system, the shout of an unheard voice in his head. Immediately he jolted up, Mark was already up and grabbing his arm, half-dragging him from the booth and across the restaurant-the old man meanwhile didn’t move, eyes watching them sharply.

_“Mark-!”_

_“Trust me, I know-!”_

 Jack looked around, grimacing as his eyes were filled with a shot of static edges and a green tint. He could see a young, petite woman with curls speaking with a small group of people and an older man, see people from different time periods sitting at the tables talking, planning, _patching up gruesome injuries, what was happening, what was even reality anymore-_

 He almost wanted to stop and stare. He could feel the presence in his head shocked into temporary silence and stagnation, he wasn’t sure if his eyes were wide under his own control or Anti’s. But he was relieved-at least-that Mark was taking the lead and guiding, making sure he didn’t stop because if they stopped-

 If they stopped then who knew _what_ might happen in a place like this.

 After everything, after all, he didn’t quite know at this point _who_ they could actually trust.

He shook his head fiercely, doing his best to shake himself (and hopefully Anti) out of their revere, trying his damnedest to shove back the…the _glitch vision_ , if he had to come up with any sort of name for it off the top of his head. Up ahead he could see movement by the front door-one of the twins.

Well that wasn't going to be an option now, was it?

“Can’t you just teleport us out of this-?!”

“Dark’s not awake yet and I am _not_ seeing any arcane clusters in the immediate vicinity-!”

“How are we getting out-?!”

“I don’t-” Mark’s words suddenly fell short as his eyes flickered across the room-almost immediately they did a sudden sharp swerve towards the bar.

“Mark-!”

“Just trust me!”

The two shoved the short swinging door that led to behind the bar, followed along the counter until they reached the other side and turned sharply through another door. This one was heavier than the last but it still opened easily and suddenly they were running through the small kitchen-

_‘Nothing in this place has changed-’_

The oddly-subdued voice of Anti startled Jack and once again he was relieved he was being dragged along-but still, _now was not the time-_

_‘Nothing in this place has changed and yet nothing back here is the same-’_

“Not the time, Anti. _Not the time!”_ Jack muttered under his breath as they bolted through the kitchen and reached out to push open a door next to a shelving unit over a counter and stove nearby.

They opened the door to one of the redheaded twins, who stood in the doorway, blocking their escape. “Sorry,” she said. “But I don’t think so-”

“Yeah, sorry, but we really gotta go-” Mark started, moving to push past harder than he really would’ve cared for. The girl-Orien or Kally, it was difficult to tell, really-responded in kind by knocking his arms wide and grabbing one, twisting it around and forcing him down to the ground in a kneel with a hand on the back of his head and neck, pushing it down. Jack would’ve reached forward to help-would’ve, except he suddenly felt hands come up and grasp his shoulders, yanking him back with shocking suddenness. He felt a sharp force impact the back of his knee, felt himself falling backwards, then caught on something soft-before in an instant being flipped down to his stomach with his face and shoulder being pushed into the floor and his arm being yanked back in restraint.

“So soon?” asked the twin pinning him.

“Get off-!” Jack ground out, struggling as he felt Anti suddenly snap out of his reverie, suddenly rise to the surface of consciousness and internally struggling like a hellcat to get loose. He winced, and while he couldn’t really blame him, his own panic compounding onto Anti’s was really doing them no favors. _Who the fuck are they-?!_

_‘O’Learys! You walked us right into a fuckin’ O’Leary nest-’_

_What does that even_ **_mean_ ** _-?!_

_‘They’ll kill us-!’_

Jack couldn’t help but feel his blood run cold as he tried to squirm enough to angle his head, to try and get a look over at Mark.

He did this.

He led them here, right into a trap, right into something they didn’t understand-

Mark was right to be paranoid.

They were both gonna die here, and it was gonna be all his fault-

“I’m not going to lie-the situation really sucks,” one of the twins lamented, tightening her restraint on Mark. “And we’re sorry for all this. This couldn’t have happened to nicer people-”

“You know, you could just _let us go-_ ” Mark ground out.

“I’m afraid that’s not really an option. Not with Doran still there. Not after all he’s done-”

“Then-then help us-!” Jack plead desperately. He wasn’t sure if this would work. He could _try_ reasoning with them, but something told him that they were gonna be a hard sell on that track. “You think we wanna be possessed?! Help us get him out without killing us-!”

“I don’t think-”

“The lad makes a decent argument. There might still be an alternative option,” a sharp new voice suddenly cut in. It was coming from the doorway of the kitchen, the one that led out to the bar. A woman’s voice, definitely Irish-Jack wasn’t entirely sure it was local though-

This  _should’ve_ been a good thing.

A third party vouching for them should’ve boded well for them!

But instead all he could feel was a surge of adrenaline, a shot of anxiety from the second spirit that dwelled within. And he could feel…

Nostalgia?

Regret?

Familiarity, if nothing else.

But it wasn’t really anything comforting.

“Let them rise,” the new voice called, and although there was a second of hesitation, Jack was relieved in spite of everything to feel the strain on his arm suddenly relax, the grip slackening just a bit. The pressure that was pinning his head and shoulder eased up as well, allowing him to start pushing himself up a bit.

“God...are you serious right now…?” he muttered, feeling the twin finally leave his person and allowing him to push himself up further. He could finally lift his head properly, get a better view of Mark-and was relieved to see that he was alright as well, on his feet and facing back into the kitchen-if not with an arm still locked behind his back. He had the feeling that would be the best he could really expect upon standing as well.

But he also took his opportunity to look back at where the new voice had come from, seeing that the figure was...actually fairly unassuming, a surprise for just how commanding it was. A small woman barely a couple inches over five feet, in her mid to late twenties with long crimson ringlets tumbling over her shoulders and piercing green eyes gazing back. She probably wasn’t much older than they were, in all honesty. Though pale-skinned, freckles littered the bridge of her nose. She was dressed in a business outfit, a green pantsuit with brass buttons and black shoes-it looked like she’d just returned from a meeting.

“Are you sure Brigid…?”

“I’m sure. Let them up.”

Jack pushed himself fully to his feet, feeling himself being pulled into a similar lock as Mark as he was turned to face the woman.

_Who the hell is this?_

There was silence for a long moment. But then there was the single-word answer from within, tense but also oddly subdued.

_‘Brigid.’_

_Which is…?_

Another pause. The new woman stared back at them, as if searching for something that no one else could see.

For a long moment he didn’t think Anti was even going to answer.

So when the other spoke up and broke the internal silence, it nearly startled him.

_‘My teacher.’_

“After all, should they try anything, I have it handled.” This new woman- _Brigid_ , apparently-sounded fairly confident in her words.

“After what happened to your brother and the others though…”

“That was on Doran’s turf. Not theirs,” Brigid informed, walking forward and never taking her eyes off him and Mark. Or...Doran, Jack had a feeling. She seemed to be practically looking right through them, it was almost unnerving. “And under differing circumstances…” She tilted her head slightly in observation before adding, “But if I’m understanding what’s happened correctly...now he’s the one in dire straits. He’s the one that would probably _benefit_ from cooperation with us.”

_‘Tell her to piss off-any way this ends, we’re dead-’_

_Shut_ **_up_ ** _, Anti-_

Jack looked up at Brigid, blue eyes pleading but also...also daring to be almost _hopeful._ “For the record-we’re here too,” he reminded. “Mark and I? And you’re actually not wrong-we really could use whatever help someone-anyone-would be willing to offer. Preferably without us and our friends winding up _dead_ , if that’s any possibility.”

Brigid tilted her head again in the other direction, eyeing him for a long moment before allowing a tiny smile to grace her lips. Jack wasn’t entirely sure if it was one of reassurance and understanding or just faked-but it definitely didn’t _seem_ like the latter, and he normally prided himself on how well he could tend to read people. “Of course,” she replied. “I wouldn’t forget about you, Sean. You or your friend-it’s unfortunate whenever innocent bystanders are caught up in the conflicts of others.”

She looked to the captives for a moment, seeming in debate before she finally turned away and walked to the bar door. “George,” she ordered. “Close the pub early. Call the western branch for backup and make sure a safehouse is prepared. No doubt there’s already danger on the heels of these two.”

“You’re not going to teleport them outside of the city?” George questioned, getting up and making his way over. “The other fragments are likely going to expect Trinity, all things considered.”

“Yes, but I’m almost certain the one possessing Nestor is going to be able to identify wrinkles in the fabric of the arcanum if we travel magically. The last thing we need is him getting immediate direct coordinates to us, or even worse: of a safehouse. I don’t even want him to have an idea of the _county._ ”

Mark frowned, glancing over at Jack with a confused look. But In the back of his mind, he could hear an exasperated sigh. Really, it was _about damn time_ Dark woke up.

‘ _Fabric of the arcanum is where magic overflows from the leylines to fill gaps, creating a shallow blanket layer over reality to circulate through the land and all things living.’_ There was a pause, then the sound of Dark scoffing. _‘In other words, not enough magic to be_ **_relevant_ ** _, but enough to give away one’s position in certain situations.’_

“So in other words, teleportation was a _great_ idea,” Mark grumbled sarcastically under his breath, watching the redhead in the doorway.

 _‘Did you have a better idea outside of_ **_immediate death?_ ** _’_

“Uh-Brigid-” the twin restraining Jack spoke up. “Are you sure it’s a good idea getting these two out manually? What if there’s an ambush? We’re still in the middle of Dublin-”

“The others won’t risk making that much of a scene. Not here, not in the city. I’m sure the last thing any of the fragments of Doran want are mass attention,” Brigid countered, certainty in her beliefs cemented in her tone. “We should be more or less safe once outside of the city-even more so outside of the _county_ altogether-just so long as we keep our wits about us. There’s a lot of open area between the east and the west-we can’t afford to let down our guard.”

The twins exchanged looks before looking back at Brigid. “Understood,” the one holding Mark affirmed.

Brigid turned fully to face them. “Grand. Alright, let’s get them upstairs and get this place locked up. The car needs to be pulled around front as well.”

“Well…” the one holding on to Jack looked at her captive, giving a small shrug. “It’s better than death. C’mon.”

The two were marched upstairs, to a hallway with two doors on each side and one at the end. It was that last one they went through, into a room that looked like a large office. It wasn’t until then that the twins released them, going to each window to check its security before returning to the two men. “Wait here,” one of them said before the two filtered out of the room.

Jack stared at their retreating figures for a moment, frozen in a sort of shock. Finally he shook his head and looked over at Mark, slightly wide-eyed. “What the fuck just happened?” he whispered. He flinched a bit at whatever Anti likely said in response, then scowled a bit. Mark looked back at him, trying to shake some of the soreness out of his arms.

‘ _You two stumbled into an O’Leary nest and now we’re captives. Genius,’_ Dark sneered.

Mark made a face. _Hey, it’s not like the O’Learys were a thing you even mentioned,_ he pointed out. But-still-he couldn’t deny either that he had his own hesitation about following that ghost, about entering this place. What the hell were they thinking? Suspicious place normally equaled bad-after all the horror games he’d played in his past, after the whole incident with the mansion, he really should’ve known better. _Jack_ should’ve known better, even without memories of the incident, just-

They really needed to stop making bad choices before it ended up getting them _killed._

“Well-on the bright side, this Brigid lady sounded like she might be interested in helping us?” Jack mentioned hopefully.

“Yeah, I’m not fully trusting of that-” Mark muttered, walking restlessly around the room to test each of the windows and to get an idea of just how far down an emergency jump would be. “Those twins were ready to _kill_ us, Jack. Dark's freaking out, and though I can't hear him, I'm about _positive_ Anti isn't much better off. Is he?" He looked back at Jack, worry etched on his features. "This has bad news written all over it-”

“But that’s just it: if they were going to kill us, they would’ve already done it,” Jack pointed out. “I’m serious, Mark-I think this might just be the best place for us.”

“I-” Mark’s words fell silent as the door opened and the petite redhead stepped inside. She pushed the door shut behind her, making sure to lock it, then looked from one man to the other. In her hand she now held a briefcase, which she carried over to the desk and set down to open.

“I figured I would make communication a bit easier; constantly relaying the messages of others must be a real headache,” she remarked. “Just try and keep public use of these objects to a minimum.”

“Objects?” Mark repeated, cautiously approaching the desk to try and get a look at whatever was in the briefcase.

“Yes. Former possessions of Doran. Totems, if you will.” The woman withdrew a couple of objects from the briefcase, handing one off to Mark and the other over to Jack.

Mark stared at the newly-acquired object with a hint of confusion. It looked almost like a pinwheel made of reeds, but only half-completed-or maybe it’d just come undone? It looked frail with age, easy to break. Such a small, fragile thing-

And yet he could feel an ache in his chest, quickly replaced by a rise of anger. Not his own, of course, but from the entity that was taking up space in his head.

“How the _hell_ did you get this?”

The voice about made him jump.

Not because he didn’t recognize it, on the contrary. He’d been hearing that voice in his head for what already felt like ages, but-

_Not so much externally, not when he was this awake, not like this-_

He spun around to see..himself? No, _Dark_ , leaning over his shoulder to study the object with a hint of anger in his features. Brigid’s green eyes drew to the newly-visible entity, looking surprisingly calm. God, if _this_ was what counted for normality, what the _hell_ was her life like on a daily basis?

“It was one of a handful of items you left behind,” she replied, as if he were just a regularly-visiting friend that merely forgot his jacket or something.

Mark’s eyes darted over to Jack, who was too busy staring at Dark with wide eyes to even so much register that he was currently holding what looked like a small wooden wand, tipped with a clear stone-probably quartz.

Too busy to notice the form of Anti-in the form Mark _knew_ him as Anti-standing behind him.

“If I’m understanding circumstances correctly-and stop me if this sounds at all inaccurate-whatever direct attempts Doran’s been making for communication and general interaction with the outside world has been met with nothing short of exhaustion and even pain. Such is because performing said actions without a middleman requires the use of mostly-forced control,” Brigid explained. “I’ve gone to the liberty of enchanting these totems to act as foci. They should help to project them as separate and make it easier to communicate,” Brigid explained. “Don’t worry. Turning it off is as simple as distancing yourself from the totem-unless they actually gain enough strength to start doing it all on their own. Let’s hope that this isn’t a situation that goes on long enough or becomes desperate enough for something like that to happen.”

The two hosts stared at Brigid for a long moment before Jack finally shook his head. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but I’m not entirely sure this really counts as much of an improvement-”

Dark meanwhile reached over to take the totem from Mark, scowling upon watching his hand pass through the object. _“This again.”_

“I’m sure you’re no stranger to a form of shadows,” Brigid replied dryly.

It was about at this point that Jack turned his focus to the totem in his hands, holding it up for study. “And what the hell is this? Baby’s first wand?” he muttered.

Anti twisted around to give Jack a look. “For your information, I was _eight,_ ” he snapped back.He then turned to Brigid, a suspicious look on his face. “What’s your play in all this? What do you stand to gain?”

“Stand to _gain?_ ” Brigid scoffed. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in with the magical community? How much chaos you have single-handedly wrought upon the world-?”

“Wait-upon the _world?_ ” Jack asked, looking from one to the other, then over at Mark. “...I thought he just killed a bunch of people and created monsters! And-well-sure, that’s bad and all obviously but-it sounds a lot more contained than something _worldwide-_ ”

Mark looked just as mystified before something clicked in his head. “Wait-no-does this have something to do with the time-turning?” He twisted around to look at Dark, look at Anti-both stood staring at Brigid, but the former a bit more rigid, lips pursed and the latter-

Glaring at the redhead. Borderline bearing his teeth in almost a feral manner. Mark glanced back at Jack and couldn't help but notice the somewhat-unnerved look on his face; the poor man must've had seen such an expression on his own face before in his videos, but it probably wasn’t a look he ever intended to see in an actual serious manner-

No matter _who_ was currently wearing it.

“I know,” Anti growled. “And I don’t regret _any_ of it either-”

“Anti,” Dark interrupted. “Shut up.” He turned to Brigid, smoothing his clothing, or at least doing a gesture of it-there really wasn’t that much difference, nothing too physical to smooth out anyway. “So I take it you’re here to kill us?”

“I…” Brigid’s words fell short for a brief moment, an unwanted lull as her eyes trailed over to Jack and Mark, then snapped back over to Dark. Her voice picked up again, as quickly as it had faded before. “I’m here to stop you from killing more innocent civilians. And I’m here to help _them._ That is my main mission in all this. The ending of your life is a consequence of your own actions.”

“That is...a fairly roundabout way of saying she’s gonna kill them,” Jack muttered to Mark, who nodded in return.

Dark’s eyes narrowed. “How self-righteous of you, as if you or any of your kind have never actually killed innocent civilians before-” he began, but he fell silent when the door suddenly opened and a head peeked inside.

“Uh, Brigid-?” one of the twins asked. Her eyes trailed upwards to look at the rest of the room, widening slightly upon seeing the two new figures. “Whoa-”

“It’s a projection spell, love. What’s the news?” Brigid asked, turning to look back at her.

“The car’s out front and ready. We’re officially closed up-still gonna have to come back later and get some extra cleaning and stuff done, but otherwise…”

Brigid nodded, looking back at the boys. “Time to go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So things are picking up and things are starting to be revealed. Let's get this ride started~ Also two quick notes! First being just a little piece of trivia, I actually revisited Dublin a couple months ago and got to eat at the Brazen Head Pub, which is the oldest pub in Dublin and the second-oldest in all of Ireland. So that was some fun research to help with the development of the Trinity, as it's only slightly younger than the Brazen~ The second being that Brigid and a majority of the O'Learys are characters of my own, but Orien and Kally are those of an old friend. So-a quick thanks to Sabby for allowing me to borrow her characters for this! And thanks to all of you guys for encouraging me to take this story and overall trilogy a step further; the support truly does mean a lot. So in the meantime, you all know what to do: if you liked it, drop a kudo, drop a comment, and I'll be seeing you all in the next chapter. Until then!


	8. Chapter 7

Brigid hurried over to the desk and closed the briefcase with a snap. “Lads, I’m going to have to ask ye to hand Orien your totems for the time being. Again, we don’t really want public exposure of magic-especially here.”

Jack and Mark exchanged glances before tentatively approaching the young woman to hand over their totems. “Just so long as you don’t end up putting me in another armlock…” Jack muttered.

Orien smiled brightly in response. “Sorry about that. But I do have a job to do, you know.”

“And just-what is that job again?”

“I’m a guardian.”

“A...what?” Jack asked, absently noting Mark leaning in a bit to get more of an explanation as well. If the fragments were going to be vague and elusive, then so be it-he’d get information about what the hell was going on through other sources.

“A guardian. From a guardian family,” Orien explained.

So much for ‘other sources not being vague and elusive’. Dammit.

“Specifically, her guardian.” Orien pointed out the petite redhead leading the group. “All bound witches and wizards have them-the O’Learys are hers.”

“Wait-wait-wait-” Mark cut in. “What the hell is a _bound_ witch/wizard?”

By this point the group was filtering onto the narrow staircase, single-file.

“Well…” Orien began, but waited until they reached the ground floor to look over at Brigid. “Brigid, if I may-?”

“I actually had plans on explaining that to them myself,” Brigid assured. “They’re bound to have it explained to them at some point or another-I’d rather it be from us as opposed to from the fragments themselves.”

‘ _She says that as if I hate them without reason-’_ Jack heard the hiss in his brain, feeling the simmering, seething anger ready to explode without a moment’s notice.

 _Well we’re not really getting any straight explanations from you, so shut up, okay?_ Jack shot back mentally as the group crossed the main part of the restaurant. As they reached the door, Jack couldn’t help but glance back. Static seemed to claw at the edges of his vision as translucent ghosts crowded the room. Patrons, staff-

His eyes fell upon a scene at one of the tables off in the corner. It was...that image he saw earlier, back when they were attempting to flee. And now he was seeing it _again._ A young boy sitting there tiredly with a girl stubbornly by his side, a few children, a few teenagers (including the one he followed into this place to begin with, if not perhaps a bit younger)... They were tired, worn, all of ranging ages-

They were _family._

But then the figure that particularly startled him: a petite young woman in a dress, long ringlets falling over her shoulders. Higher class than that of the family but certainly of the same time period-

A time period that looked like that of _at least four hundred years ago_ _._

He looked over at Brigid-then back at the figure in the corner. Yeah, clothing aside, it was definitely her. The figures were identical. And looking at Brigid right now, it looked like she’d barely aged more than a handful years or so-if _even_ that.

‘ _Well of course. She was my teacher when I was_ **_eight_ ** _,’_ Anti sneered in his head.

 _How is that even_ ** _possible?_** Jack mentally questioned, stunned at this revelation.

A silence followed for a moment before Anti merely responded with, ‘ _There’s more than one way to skin a cat.’_

It was at around this point that the overlay faded from his sight and he shook his head to try and clear it, looking back at the group and only gradually starting to realize that Orien was talking to them.

“Um-” he interrupted, although his voice was faint, still in a little bit of a stupor. But he continued to try and shake it off, raising his voice a bit more as his present awareness gradually returned. “What...what happened to them?”

Orien stopped talking for a moment, looking over at him curiously. “Hm?” she asked.

“The...uh-the people-” His words dropped off upon remembering that they didn’t actually know about his newfound power, reaching for a new way of asking. “George mentioned something about Anti’s family passing through here at some point?” Why was he even asking? Why did he even _care?_ He didn’t ever know them-

But suddenly he could sense some of Anti’s anger ebb away, replaced by a mix of curiosity and lingering sadness.

Brigid turned to look at him, eyes sharp. “They died,” she replied simply, a sudden drop from the concerned and sympathetic woman they’d seen just moments prior. Jack and Mark stared for a moment, unable to find words. Brigid was unphased. “That’s what happens to most humans after four hundred years, provided they don’t use alternative supernatural means.”

Mark looked over at Jack, the uncertainty that’d been accompanying him throughout this whole thing back in full force, but then he looked at Brigid. “Brigid,” he asked. “I’m asking again: just what is a _bound witch or wizard?_ ”

Brigid opened her mouth to explain, but the door opened and the other twin-Kally, the others could suppose-poking her head inside.

“The escort car just pulled up. We should be ready to go now. For real this time.”

Brigid nodded, letting Kally open the door wider and motioning everyone else outside. As she did, she looked back over at Kally. “I take it I’ll have one of you on immediate, the other on standby?”

“Sure will,” Orien replied, walking by with keys in hand. “I’m driving.”

Kally watched for a moment, then looked back at Brigid. “I’ve got Kyle in the other car, we’ll be following right behind,” she reassured before hurrying to the other car.

Brigid nodded, hurrying over to the main car and sliding into the passenger’s seat while Orien meanwhile pushed the boys into the back. Shutting the door behind Jack, she then moved over to the door on the driver’s end and slid in, starting up the car.

“Time to get moving,” she muttered, pulling away from the curb and beginning to head down the street.

Brigid watched for a long moment, watching as they carefully avoided the pedestrians (this _was_ still the Temple Bar area, after all), before finally speaking.

“All humans have an ‘arcanum door’ embedded within them-but for most of them, these doors remain tightly shut over the course of their entire lives. And all for the better as access to those leylines and arcane energy would be able to easily rip the average person apart. Witches and wizards, however, are people who are uniquely more durable in both body and soul, able to open and shut this door at will without consequence and reach directly into the arcane energies channeled through leyline currents and blanketing the world for their own uses.”

Jack leaned forward a bit, only held back somewhat by the strain of his seatbelt.

“That being said, witches and wizards are quite rare overall. There is normally only a handful born every generation, and even then, there are the occasional few that never come across a great enough trigger event to awaken their latent ability-a moment of great stress and desperation, or contact with something else related to the arcane.”

“We have a friend who’s actually a wizard,” Mark spoke up. “I think you've mentioned him already but-it's our friend Ethan-he’s the one being possessed by one of the fragments right now, one calling himself Blank-”

“I have heard about him, yes,” Brigid assured. “From Guin. She’s my older sister.”

The boys stared, finally broken as Mark suppressed a groan and leaned back again. Jack got the sneaking suspicion his friend had pretty much _had it_ with this particular family already.

“Okay. But is there any particular reason you guys keep putting ‘bound’ in front of the title of ‘witch’ and ‘wizard’? Is Ethan one of these bound?”

Brigid paused, then shook her head. “No,” she replied. “There are distinct differences between bound and unbound. Unbound are generally beginner wizards and onwards, until a binding ceremony takes place.” She twisted in her seat slightly to look back at them. “To fully grasp this, you have to understand that the leyline currents are much like that of an actual river you’d see upon the land: occasionally they’ll dam up and overflow, occasionally they’ll run dry, and sometimes they'll just stagnate altogether. They’re extremely temperamental and these fluctuations-especially in the more extreme times-have direct consequence on everything else.”

 _‘Almost surprised four hundred years have passed and she_ **_still_ ** _hasn’t changed her original analogy-’_ Anti grumbled. _‘Almost.’_

“While arcane energy _can_ rip a normal person apart when channeled directly, there are trickles of it throughout nature and in almost every living thing. These energies are vital in encouraging stabilization in all things. Too much or too little of it can increase subconscious agitation among the people of that particular leyline’s region, making them more predisposed to hatred and conflict. It can affect the environment, causing famine, drought, and other such catastrophes. This is not to say, of course, that there are not other factors at play-with or without arcane energies, all of these possibilities and more are liable to happen regardless. But when the leylines are kept in balance, the likelihood of predisposition goes down significantly and catastrophic events can become even just a _fraction_ more manageable.”

“So these bound are…” Mark began.

“In most simplistic terms: regulators,” Brigid finished. “In the event of a binding ceremony, the witch or wizard becomes bound to the leylines of a particular region. The leylines channel directly through them-and in consequence, most will actually lose their magical abilities due to their bodies redirecting all of its strength and focus into said regulation as well as holding itself together. There are...anomalies, of course. Those that are extra durable, like myself and my family. But these are even rarer still.”

“And that’s why you’re...what? Immortal?” Jack asked.

Brigid shook her head. “Not immortal,” she replied. “But aging far slower than the average human, certainly. And...somewhat more difficult to kill.” She paused, considering. “Generally speaking, most Bound do not disappear until something particularly apocalyptic happens within their region. In most known cases: borderline or total cultural collapse-as well as a handful of other rarities. The Bound witch is that of her people, land, and culture-and they her. Their pain is her pain and her struggles can be felt by all those within her leyline boundaries. And the same goes for any wizarding counterpart.”

“So Anti...Dark, whichever-”

“Doran,” Brigid interrupted softly. “He went by Doran.”

“Doran,” Jack repeated. “I take it he wasn’t a bound wizard?”

 _‘I would choose_ **_death_ ** _over binding,’_ Anti sneered.

Well. He supposed that answered that question.

Brigid was silent as she faced forward again, watching as the car made its way through traffic along the Liffey. When she spoke, her voice was soft and weighed with an emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Understanding...and regret? It was almost as if she were lost in some sort of memory.

“The case of Doran is...complicated. Was.”

And with that, she settled into silence again, leaving a blanket of confusion and curiosity to cover over all of its occupants. But after a couple of minutes, her thumbs snapped up the clasps of her briefcase and she pulled it open again. “Well then,” she finally continued. Some of the reminiscence was shaken away from her tone. “All of that aside, I suppose you’re wondering how I’ll be able to help ye.”

“Well that would be very nice,” Mark replied cautiously. “So long as it’s help that doesn’t involve any of us dying or being exposed to any sketchy magic-”

“It involves sketchy magic.”

Mark’s face scrunched up into a worried, uncertain expression. The stubbornness was evident in his eyes. “In that case, III don’t know about using your method. You know, we’ll probably be able to find some other kind of way-”

“There is another kind of way,” Brigid interrupted. Her voice took on a flat tone as she finished, “It’s called death.”

Mark fell silent, eyeing her without immediate comeback.

“I can’t stress how bad and unusual of a situation this is,” Brigid warned. “This is the sort of thing that _never happens._ And it doesn’t help that the fragments ye carry belong to someone that has a target on his back. There are plenty of Bound that would rather see ye both dead if it means being rid of Doran once and for all. If this goes on for much longer, threats will be coming in from all sides, not just from the other fragments themselves.” Brigid looked down at the briefcase’s interior as she added, “They’re even to be found within my own family...ye don’t know how lucky ye are that I was the one that found ye.”

Jack exchanged a nervous glance with Mark before looking back at Brigid. “Good to know. We’ll definitely keep that in mind,” he assured. Clearing this throat, he added, “So-uh-what’s the sketchy way?”

“This.” Brigid withdrew an old silver hand mirror, the handle and framing ornate. Mark leaned forward, lip curling up a bit as his face contorted in confusion.

“...Huh?”

“Uh-Brigid-no disrespect or anything but...that’s a mirror,” Jack pointed out.

“And the object that helped you to reverse death and move time itself was a book,” Brigid chided. “I fail to see your point.”

“Okay and...how is this thing supposed to help us?” Mark asked, doing his best to keep some of the apprehension out of his voice.

Brigid handed the mirror back to them so they could look it over for themselves. “Normal humans cannot use magic directly, but at the very least they can use magical _objects_. Some of these objects are suspected of being Sidhe artifacts-”

“Woah, what? Sidhe-?” Jack cut in, but was unacknowledged.

“-But most of them are made by alchemists.”

Jack could feel a pang inside, but for the moment, Anti remained silent. It seemed he was listening just as intently.

“The way the mirror works is that if you reflect the face of a person in it and say their name, the mirror will draw out their soul and effectively trap it in the realm that lies on the other side,” Brigid explained. “But even that much poses a bit too much of a risk of an escape, so it’s best to transfer it over to a better form of connecting containment immediately upon withdrawal.”

“Wait a minute, what?” Mark asked, frowning. The frown was broken momentarily by a wince-Jack got the feeling Dark wasn’t too happy hearing this news. He could certainly tell that Anti wasn’t. “So if you were to do that, then what would happen to our souls? I mean, it’s technically _our_ faces that would be showing in the mirror-”

“Doesn’t matter. In the state the soul fragments are in now, that level of facial identification should be more than enough. And the mirror only targets that of whose name is spoken. Theoretically, it should be able to separate the two souls out before drawing the targeted one in.”

“Hold on, _theoretically?_ ” Mark repeated, eyes narrowing to suspicion.

“Oh-what are those things from Harry Potter?” Jack muttered absently before it came to mind and he grimaced. “Dementors, I think? Fuckin’ _dementor_ mirror.”

 _‘Do you think this is some kind of_ **_game?_ ** _’_ Anti demanded.

Jack didn’t get the opportunity to mentally respond before Brigid spoke up.

“As I warned, this isn’t a phenomenon that happens often if at all,” she reminded. “All I can say for certain is how the mirror works under normal circumstance, how it's most likely to work in these sort of conditions, and that I can assure ye that I’ve never seen it led astray.”

Jack ignored the rising growl within his head, turning the mirror over in his hands to study it. There was a part of him that almost wished to break it, or to even turn it on himself and speak his own name: _Sean William McLoughlin-_

But that part of him wasn’t his.

And upon realizing this, he pursed his lips, then shook his head. “In that case, we can’t have this.” He leaned forward a bit to hand the mirror back. “We shouldn’t even be anywhere _near_ this, or at least not within arms’ reach. Suppose one of the fragments were to take over; they could turn the mirror right back around and use it on _us_ instead. A fragment would have nothing to stop it from taking that person’s body over completely.”

The redhead didn’t take it.

“Do you really think only a _fragment_ of one’s soul is enough to operate a foreign functioning human body? Adequately at least? One would be severely weakened and likely even crippled _at best,_ ” Brigid replied.

 _‘A fucking shame_ _,’_ Anti grumbled. It seemed he saw the sense in the matter, but couldn’t quite hide his disappointment that such an option just wasn’t feasible. Jack didn’t even bother to hide his relief.

“But if it does continue to concern ye, I’d recommend keeping it in the hands of whichever one of ye is least likely to fall under direct control from yer fragment.”

Mark glanced over at Jack, silent for a moment before replying, “...Jack is.” But then he paused. A frown flitted across his face and he looked up at Brigid with a moment of realization. “But wait a second-why are you even giving it over to _us_ to begin with? If it’s just _that easy_ -if it really works the way you say it does, then why haven’t you just used it on us already?”

 _‘Because she won’t,’_ Anti deduced. _‘And she can’t. It-’_

But whatever Anti’s next words were, Jack didn’t hear.

His blue eyes widened as he saw a familiar face on the sidewalk as the car passed it by-

The only warning Jack had was Orien’s exclamation of “What the hell is that?!” before a large _boom!_ resounded all around them and their world suddenly capitulated. There was the sudden sickening feeling of weightlessness that fell over them for a split-second before it was abruptly cast away with a crash and a loud crunching noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I know this chapter was a bit exposition-heavy, but at least the answers to a few mysteries have finally been revealed! And on top of that-perhaps even a glimmer of hope for getting out of this whole mess without a four-five person death toll at minimum? We'll just have to wait and see~ In the meantime, thanks so much for all the support; it really means so much to me and helps this story just keep on going! I'll do my best not to disappoint as the story goes on! So if you liked it, drop a kudo, drop a comment, and I'll be seeing you all in the next chapter. Until then!


	9. Chapter 8

Jack must’ve blacked out at least once or twice for a few seconds at a time, because before he even realized it, he was suddenly hanging upside-down, the other occupants of the car were dangling down around him. There was an eerie silence, a stillness that settled and seemed to stretch on into eternity-though such a perception couldn't have been further from the truth.

The silence was suddenly shattered at the loud wail of a horn and then another crash, causing the car to skid violently a good several feet or so. Glass exploded inward and he shut his eyes tight, he could hear shrieking. This happened at least once or twice more, the car-or at least whatever was left of it-spinning and skidding all over the pavement with the most god-awful screech of sparking metal and the sounds of shattering glass. Something loud kept wailing over and over-it took him _far_ longer than it should have for him to actually realize that it was _multiple_ car alarms.

“Holy-” he whispered, struggling a little bit to regain some form of focus, to somehow get _out_ of this situation. He looked around at everyone-by some miracle the cab still seemed intact _somehow_ , at least.

“Is everyone alright?” Brigid’s voice rang through the cab, barely heard over all the alarms and commotion but understandable enough.

“I...I’m okay, I’m okay-” Jack replied weakly, looking to his right as he heard Mark weakly groan.

Brigid shifted a bit in her seat, looking over to the driver’s side. “Orien?”

A silence followed, though there was at least the relieving reassurance of breathing coming from where the young guardian was. Brigid cursed, immediately moving to try and shove her door open and working to get herself loose from the seatbelt. “I swear to...god…” the witch hissed. A painful-sounding thud filled the cab as Brigid dropped to the ceiling, accompanied by a yelp of pain-but the woman finally managed to wrench herself free, half-tumbling, half-rolling out and climbing to her feet, wavering for a moment.

Jack decided to follow her example, moving to try and get his door open-no such luck. What little he could see out his window was blocked by more painted steel. He could only assume that another car had hit them at some point, that it was pinning him in.

He grimaced, turning his attention to Mark. Not much else he really _could_ do at that moment, not with the way things were. “Mark?” he called to the American, reaching over to touch his arm. The other barely seemed conscious. “Mark, c’mon, we’ve got to get out of here-”

He heard a noise from the front, something dragging through the glass and debris on Brigid's side, then a silence. But it was short-lived as there was soon another noise on Mark’s other side and he saw light suddenly pour in. A young man in his mid-twenties or so leaned down into the opening. “Everyone still alive in here?” he asked. “C’mon, we’ve got to get you out.”

Brigid meanwhile looked back at the two guardians from the escort car, watching as one-Kyle-ran over ensure her briefcase was moved someplace safe and then rushing to help out those in the backseat. Kally meanwhile made a beeline to the driver's side of the car, bending down to try and drag Orien out from the front. She watched as the traffic slammed to a halt on all sides of the four-way intersection, as a handful of pedestrians ran over from the sidewalk and a few people got out of their cars to follow. One or two people were already calling an ambulance, emergency services overall, a couple people hurried over to her to make sure she was alright; she brushed them off and directed them to those of the other crashed cars instead. With a focused determination her green eyes sharply searched the crowds in an effort to pinpoint the culprit-or for that matter, any form of further impending danger whatsoever. She ignored the cuts and bruises caused by the accident, ignored any aches and pains as she walked forward; she bared the scars of far worse over the course of her lifetime.

She glanced down at the street, noticing the shattered glass scattered about. Noticed that one bit of glass in particular was too circular, far too _curved_ to actually belong to any of the busted car windows.

Her eyes narrowed now; she looked back up ahead of her, bracing herself for anything.

And saw _him._

“I was warned that you were reckless,” she called to the fragment. “But I never thought that you were quite _this_ stupid.” She cast a hand to the surrounding area, eyes blazing. “Do you realize where we are?” she demanded. “In the middle of a _capital city._ In the middle of _Dublin._ ”

Blank smirked, tutting as he approached the redhead. “It’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it? Worrying so much about public display after what your brother did-” His smirk faded for a moment before it returned, giving a small shrug. “But-bold of you to assume I care,” he remarked. He shook his head, his smirk fading a bit to a grin. “I’m here for the fragments.”

“You can’t have them.” The witch glared back at the man, hand dropping to her sides. “They’re under _my_ protection.”

The wizard scoffed, grin turning almost pitying. “I don’t think there’s much you’ll be able to do about it,” he remarked. “There are _rules_ , after all. Especially for the Bound. And besides-” His tone shifted to mocking as he echoed, “We’re in the middle of a _capital city._ In the middle of _Dublin..._ and you actually _care._ ” He took a few steps closer, unphased as he lowered his voice somewhat. “Not much you can do here, Brigid. Not without your magic. And without that, well-you’re nothing more than a cantankerous old woman.”

Brigid clenched her fists and pursed her lips, holding her ground even when Blank was mere steps away. The wizard tilted his head.

“Stand aside. With all these civilians around-you wouldn’t want anyone getting _hurt_ , would you?” Switching again into that odd mix of mockery and pity, he added, “To be honest...I don’t think your _heart_ could take it.”

“I think you underestimate its strength.” Brigid shook her head. “You’ve been away for _far_ too long.”

Blank’s eyes flickered to just past Brigid, watching as the O’Leary boy helped keep Mark steady, half-supporting him. As Jack clumsily crawled/rolled/dragged himself out of the back of the car, as Kally struggled to pull her sister from the wreck. “Alright,” he remarked, the grin widening a bit on his face with a small chuckle. “Alright. Perhaps I wasn’t quite making myself clear here.”

He stepped two more steps before coming to a stop. Now he was no more than half a foot from the redheaded witch. No more than half a foot and yet the older woman remained resolute and unflinching, staring back at him with hardened eyes. And with that he leaned forward a bit, voice low.

“When I leave this place in the next few minutes, there will be two dead bodies left in my wake. Or there will be _dozens._ Considering how _attached_ you are to your people, and how you’d rather avoid a public spectacle of the arcane...I _heavily_ suggest you surrender to the first option.” He tilted his head slightly, that cocky expression with threatening fire in his eyes, adding, “It really would be in the best interests of everyone, you know.”

Jack meanwhile staggered to his feet, brushing the glass off him and glancing to Kyle and Mark. “Is he-?”

“He’s fine,” Kyle reassured, adjusting his hold on Mark to shift his weight a bit. He stole an almost-panicked glance at Brigid-to which Jack’s eyes followed-then over at Kally. “Kally-!”

“I know, I know, I just-” Kally replied, struggling a bit with the door on the driver’s side. “I _can’t-!”_

Upon hearing Kally, Jack tore his eyes away from the scene of Blank and Brigid to take in the commotion behind him, the broken glass and metal and frantic desperation. Something seemed to shift in his brain and he immediately snapped into action. Although the car didn't look like it was about to actually catch fire or anything (yet? just how accurate were the movies?) and everyone seemed more or less alive at this point, it was clear that they were going to have to work _fast._ At the moment it seemed like Blank and Brigid were only...talking? But who only knew how long that was going to last. Brigid could only buy them so much time for their escape to safety. “Here, Kally, let me-” He rushed over to the driver’s side as well, moving to grab onto the door. “Here-” He gave the door handle a hard yank, leaning back with all of his might-yeah no, it wasn’t budging _at all._ At this rate he’d more likely rip the handle off the door than the actual door itself.

He straightened, looking wildly over at Kally, then over at Brigid. He honestly had no idea what was about to go down over there. He wasn’t entirely sure what Brigid was capable of, but assuming the worst as the safest bet, all he could conclude for certain was that they were _running out of time._ And _fast._ “Ah...um…” He raked a hand back through his hair. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath.

His eyes darted around for a moment before noticing a glint of steel in his peripheral. “Here-Kally, here-” he began, rushing over to grab the chunk of metal. From the look of it, it seemed to be a piece of the fender from one of the wrecked cars. “The door’s jammed pretty shut, I don’t think we’re getting it off-especially not with our hands. So Plan B...window.”

He hurried back over to the door, nudging Kally to the side to start bashing at the glass. Seemed to be scratching the surface, chipping bits and pieces off it, certainly, but it wasn’t enough. It just _wasn’t enough_ , there wasn’t enough actual weight and density behind the chunk of fender that he had, and plus it was such an awkward position he was hammering away at it anyway-

“Here, stand aside-” a new voice spoke up. Jack looked over at the middle-aged man and judging from the lack of recognition coming from Kally and Kyle, could only assume that this guy was unrelated to the whole matter entirely.

It looked like now _random civilians_ were actually getting involved.

His eyes dropped for a moment to notice the crowbar in the man’s hand- _that’ll work-_ and immediately sidestepped.

“Be careful-”

“I know-”

Jack moved backwards a couple paces, making sure to push Kally back into a safer proximity with him.

Iron crashed forward once, then twice. The man frowned, eyeing the window for a moment before pulling the crowbar back a bit further.

_Crash!_

The crowbar finally broke through, the impact not quite busting in the  whole thing-but whatever _wasn't_ fully destroyed now had spidering cracks all throughout it. And anyway, as much as he trusted the man with the crowbar, it was also kind of a relief to see that the overall resistance of the window did manage to force some restraint upon the swing, to prevent it from continuing on  into the unconscious twin’s skull. He drew the crowbar back and looked back at the others, then crouched down. “Hello?” he called inside. “Hello!”

“I...I’m pretty sure she’s unconscious…” Kally explained, watching the scene worriedly.

Jack didn’t wait. He knelt down by the window and winced a bit at the scene, peering into the dark interior-this was going to be tricky. “Um-oh, let’s see here-” He looked up at the man. “You got a knife?”

The man shook his head, but Kally was already making her way over to Kyle and Mark.

“Kyle!”

“Yeah!”

The O’Leary man produced a pocket knife and handed it over to Kally. “It’s not much, but…”

“No, it’s perfect, thanks-!” Kally hurried back over to Jack and the civilian, handing the knife over. “Here-!”

Jack gratefully took the knife and fumbled with it for a moment, reaching into through the window and ignoring the broken glass as the adrenaline took over. “Okay, this is...okay…” he mumbled as he felt around for a moment, struggling to get a decent look at the interior with the lack of light underneath, with the awkward angles and tight spaces. His free hand finally looped underneath a seatbelt and he tugged it downward, just enough to slip the blade between fabric and person.

He sucked in a breath. _This_ was where things could go sideways, where Orien could really get hurt even worse than she likely already was. He’d have to avoid cutting or stabbing her from knife and glass alike, and then there was the fact that she was _hanging upside-down…_

Before he started actually cutting, he glanced up at the other two. “Hey, I’m going to need someone to-she’s going to fall the second that seatbelt comes undone-”

“Yeah-yeah, here-” the man knelt down to help catch the woman, looking over as another civilian ran over, a young woman this time, starting to ask if the person inside was alright, what they were doing, how could she help. Kally did her best to answer questions, eyes flickering from her sister to her ward, torn on who exactly to focus on at the moment.

Jack meanwhile continued to saw through the durable fabric, doing his best to ensure that the blade went through the _seatbelt_ instead of the _person_ -and the second he felt the blade fly downward and free, his eyes lit up. “Got it, she’s out-!” he announced, although his triumph was short-lived when he felt the body above his hands immediately start giving way to gravity.

“Here-okay-hold on, I got her-” the man replied, moving to brace her against the seat to give Jack an opportunity to get a decent hold on her as well. Jack nodded and thanked the man, setting the knife down next to him and reaching inside to try and maneuver Orien out as carefully as possible-

But just before starting to extract her...he froze. Muscles tensing, eyes wide, anxiety shooting high. And he...he wasn’t even entirely sure _why._

_“O-O-”_

The voice was sharp, distinct-and almost choking. Jack’s head whipped around as his eyes darted around wildly, trying to find the speaker, then leaning down to check if Orien had roused. “...Orien…?” he asked softly, hesitantly, worried about what he might discover.

But Orien was out like a _light_ , completely unconscious, lips unmoving.

 _So who the_ **_hell-?_ **

_“I think there’s-I can’t-it’s-”_

No, it was coming from _all around._

The color drained from his face, all he could feel was this spiraling sense of dread rising up to suffocate him.

And then that he realized it wasn’t him.

 _None_ of it was him, _none_ of it was actually coming from _around_ him either.

No.

It was coming from _Anti._

_‘...Careful.’_

The internal voice startled him, almost causing him to jump. It sounded oddly quiet, tense-

_Anti, what the hell-?_

_‘Be careful of the glass.’_

Jack hesitated for a moment, eyeing the situation-it was true that there wasn’t _nearly_ as much of a hole made into the window as there really should’ve been.

“Um-” Jack glanced over at the mystified man next to him, shifting a little. “Here-um-brace…” He moved to shift the majority of Orien’s weight over to the civilian, though keeping his right hand under her as well. “Help me brace her a bit, I don’t think we’ve got enough space in the window to pull her out just yet-”

With his left hand he moved to pull some of the laminated fragments away, as it was on that side where most of the glass still remained. It didn’t even hit him that this was probably a _bad idea_ until someone spoke up.

“Hey, hey-!” Kally exclaimed. “Hold on-” She moved to take the nearby crowbar. “Don’t-here, don’t use your hands-”

She reached forward, moving to hook the end of the crowbar around the edges of the glass fragments and pull them away-thankfully in rather large chunks due to the window’s lamination. Jack nodded, realizing he probably should’ve thought that through a bit better, and brought his left hand back over to Orien to help support her as well.

When the glass was finally cleared (as much as they realistically could in such a hurry, anyway), Jack looked to the man next to him.

“Ready?” the man asked.

“Yeah,” Jack replied. The two worked together to try and maneuver Orien out of the front seat as carefully as possible.

“Keep an eye on-here, watch her neck-I’ve got her back, yeah-” the man guided as the two slowly but surely began to pull her from the car. They were helped along further by Kally and the other woman, who quickly moved into place to help pull the unconscious twin out of the car once she was halfway out. Once she was completely free from the car, the man moved to hoist her up and looked to the others. “Here, let’s get her away from this mess-just in case anything else happens-”

Kally and the two civilians began to move to the side, the former meanwhile reassuring the latter that there was nobody else in the car. Kyle exchanged a quick glance with her, moving to get Mark over to where the others were as well.

Jack meanwhile grabbed Kyle’s pocket knife and began to stand but hesitated as something caught his eye. He blinked, noticing the glint of old metal underneath the car-he reached underneath to carefully grasp and drag out the mirror. It was shockingly unbroken, maybe from the supposed magic that surrounded it, maybe from just a freak accident.

But-

Either way…

His eyes darted over to Brigid and Blank, then down at the mirror.

“Curious question…” he muttered under his breath as he rose to his feet. “Doran, right? What is your _last_ name?”

There was hesitation in his mind for a brief moment before it was followed up with an answer.

 _‘...Sheridan.’_ Another pause, followed by, _‘What are you planning-?’_

This could work.

If the mirror worked like Brigid said it would, _this could work._ They’d eliminate a fifth of the problem, save Ethan-

And now was their chance to do so.

They might not get a better shot at it.

Blank watched as the scene unfolded behind the unwavering witch, then back down at her. He looked her directly in the eye, tone suddenly sharpening, grin fading somewhat and eyes narrowing. “I think that's more than enough time to decide," he hissed. "I won’t ask you again: what’s it gonna be, Brigid?” Blue lines tied with acid green began to trace their way up one of his hands. “Two civilian hosts with the fragments of a wanted wizard? Or...the two of them along with an entire crowd of innocent civilians, as well as members of your guardian family?”

Hard green eyes stared back at the man stubbornly, pale fists clenching-but as they did, emerald lines began to spider up her own hands, gleaming bright. Blank’s eyes glanced down at them with intrigue, unable to keep the light surprise off his features. “...Interesting choice,” he murmured. “So you intend to forgo protocol altogether.” He shook his head slightly. “It seems in spite of your squabbles, you and your brother really aren’t so different after all...are you?”

And suddenly, the emerald lines disappeared. Flickered out as if they never were to begin with, a mere trick of the mind.

The redhead looked up at Blank, expression unreadable for only a moment…

Until it twisted into a scornful sneer.

 _“Who ever said I needed_ ** _magic_** _to defeat you?”_

Blank’s eyes barely had time to widen when the woman’s fist suddenly snapped out and decked him, twisting his head to the side in surprise. He looked back at her in disbelief. “You-!”

“A cantankerous old woman, am I?” Now Brigid’s eyes were blazing, each word piercing sharp with rage. “Perhaps. That may be so. I am _two thousand years old_ , after all.” She took a step forward to match the step he was forced to take back upon being struck. “But on that line, I think you’re forgetting.” As he took a step back, she took one closer. “I come from the time of the Irish tribes. I come from the time of the _high kings._ ” She took another step to match another one of his, continuing, “I fended off _Romans._ I fended off _Vikings-Normans-British-!_ I have gone up against my _own kind_ : witches...wizards _far_ superior to you!”

The redhead scoffed and shook her head. “And you think that a mere _fragment_ of an unbound wizard is going to cow _me?”_

For once Blank looked slightly unnerved, a little bit off his game. But he covered it up with a wry grin in spite of his recent injury and shook his head. “Intimidation tactics? Really?” He cocked his head with a knowing nasty little grin. “We both know that’s what it is: one or two hits perhaps-a punch is one thing. But serious damage? _Death?_ ” He made a slight gesture to the two hosts behind her. “If you were so determined to do real damage or even kill, I doubt you’d be going to so much trouble to protect them.” He scoffed, narrowing knowing eyes as he stared her down. “Hell, I doubt they’d _still be alive._ And yet... _”_

Blue entwined with acid green began to wind up his fingers and wrists, up his arms.

“You still initiate a fight knowing that _I_ have no qualms holding back.”

A few strings of sparks were already swirling around his fingers, dancing and weaving with tiny crackles and pops. Tiny wisps, but at any given moment-

He threw his hand forward, the wisps suddenly sharpening, focusing into a spell far more concentrated. “Accen-”

Brigid shot forward, grabbing the glowing hand with one of her own and gripping it tight, yanking it back towards her to try and throw him off balance, to bring him in closer. As she did, her other hand came up, two fingers connecting with his forehead and a jolt of green light surging through. _“Expergiscere!”_ she hissed.

Blank’s eyes widened briefly, glowing lines flickering around them for a split-second-

The shock was short-lived. His hand suddenly twisted and grasped hers, the whole arm snapping around to bend her own around at an awkward angle. She hissed, already trying to break away when he yanked her forward, causing her to stagger past him. The start of a turn, interrupted by a sharp impact that sent her wheeling and hitting the hard pavement. The redhead didn’t take too much time, rolling upon impact, ignoring the scrapes on her hands, ignoring the pain from her fall. Her eyes flickered to the glowing hand of the advancing fragment, it was starting to grow brighter again. She moved up into a kneel, using the push-off to contribute to her momentum as she lunged, aiming a punch for his gut.

Blank side-stepped, snapping a hand forward to give her a shove.

A twist, a grasping of the arm, Brigid held his firmly in her grip as emerald orbs stared into his for a moment, searching.

Searching for something…

But what?

Whatever it was, the redhead allotted no patience to current circumstance, giving his arm a sharp twist in one of the locks she’d shown the twins so many times, but was immediately struck in the leg with a kick. She hissed, releasing, throwing a punch to the face and feeling the satisfying success of impact. Blank reached up to wipe the blood from his now-broken nose, glaring daggers at the witch. It was only broken by a grimace, as if taking a sudden shock of pain to the brain-bright lines flickered around the eyes again, faster than one could blink, barely imperceptible. He tried to brush it aside. Brigid immediately aimed another punch in an attempt to take advantage of his distraction, but wasn’t fast enough; he jerked back, just barely avoiding the fist that about _grazed_ his face and straightened. His own fist flew forward as if to pay back in kind, watching as Brigid took the bait. Watching as she tried to counter and evade, watching as his other hand came around to grab her by the throat and squeeze, driving her into one of the stopped cars and moving to pin her down.

“You know…” Blank remarked as his grip tightened, moving just a bit to avoid her kicking legs, ignoring her flailing arms that eventually gripped his wrist, vying for him to let go. Watching in satisfaction as the woman gasped, struggling to draw in breath. “There was once a part of me that never wanted to start with you. Not really.” He raised a hand with snaps of heat shimmering between his fingers, sparks dancing through the air around them as a nasty grin split his face. “Sure glad _that_ part is gone. For this particular moment, at least.”

Brigid stared up at him with wide eyes, but they darted just past him as she noticed a surge of sudden movement racing up behind Blank. Her mouth opened slightly to speak, to warn-but not a sound came out.

A wasted effort.

It was too late anyway.

“Hey, Blank!”

Blank turned, that unsettling grin still fixed on his face as he saw Jack rushing forward. “Oh, and what’s this?” he asked. He turned his spell towards Jack, hand now _engulfed_ in flames. “So good to see that at least _one_ of you is willing to be a volunteer-”

Jack wasted no time. He skid to a stop in front of Blank, holding up the mirror up to reflect the face of the unbound.

At which point several things happened at once.

“Doran Sheridan-!”

Anti’s awareness suddenly snapped into focus in his mind, the voice in his mind shrieking so loud he could almost swear he could hear it in his _actual ears._

 _‘_ ** _Idiot!’_** Anti screeched. _‘That is_ ** _not_** _my_ ** _real name-!_** **’**

Jack’s eyes widened. “What-?!”

It was all he really had time to say before Blank moved to fling his hand forward and throw the spell at them.

Brigid immediately took advantage of his distraction, twisting awkwardly so her foot could make a bid at the back of his leg, at the back of his knee. A desperate attempt, but one that worked just enough to cause the spell to blip, to loosen the wizard’s grip on her throat. The witch gripped his wrist tight, yanking it away with one hand and shoving him away as best she could with the other. She gasped, sucking a few sharp breaths as she staggered away, attempting to steady. Blank was already recovering, the spell surging and whipping around his hand again in a small, contained firestorm.

Brigid’s eyes darted to Jack, darted to the surrounding crowd of onlookers who seemed...very uncertain what to do, staring agape at the clear magic before them. Her focus turned back to Blank and she quickly moved forward to grab the hand with the spell, to yank it back in an attempt to interrupt it again-or at least hold it back-and ignoring the flames that licked at her own hand, at her wrist, at her arm, even as it slowly began to settle and peter out again from the distraction. She twisted around just enough to look back at Jack with wide eyes. “Sean!” she exclaimed. _“Get out of here!”_

Jack took a few steps back, somewhat stunned at just how much of a complete and utter failure that was, at just how much he goofed-okay yeah no, that _definitely_ didn’t work, that was _definitely_ a bad idea-inwardly he was panicking-

_What the hell is your real name?!_

_‘I don’t-!’_

He wouldn’t have gotten the opportunity to use the mirror again regardless.

It was at that point that Blank grinned dangerously at Brigid, the hand dancing with flames suddenly dimming down to just a far more passive glimmer as if in relent.

An interpretation that couldn’t be _further_ from the truth.

“Something I think you actually forgot, Brigid.”

The witch looked up at him with wide green eyes, releasing the hand in anticipation of another attack.

“At the end of the day…”

His other hand moved forward, glowing bright, almost to the point of muting out _all_ color, almost to the point of _white._ That energy was very prominently surging through his veins, making their way up into his eyes.

_“I’m a lefty.”_

The other hand shot forward.

_“Aboleo-!”_

A strangled cry filled the air, causing Jack to freeze and turn back around from his retreat. He could see Blank, he could see Brigid…

Something had happened.

A bright white flash, the surge of energy that filled the air was palpable, _electric_ to the point that it about made his hairs stand on end. And the witch gripped the spell hand tightly, her palm against Blank’s left with fingers firmly laced and body rigid, as if grabbing a _live wire._

“Brigid!” he exclaimed, Kally already surging past him to pull the witch away.

“Brigid!” Kally shouted, rushing forward to wrench the woman away. It was at that point another woman rushed out of the awestruck and horrified crowd of onlookers (nobody seemed quite bold enough to approach the situation outright) and moved to help Kally, quickly grabbing Blank tightly by the shoulders and shoving the (what appeared now-weakened) wizard away.

“Get them to the car-!”

“Jen-!”

“I said _get them to the car!_ I’ve got this-!”

Just as well-they could hear sirens on the approach, closing in and _fast._

Kally looked back at the woman-Jen, apparently? Jack suspected it was another O’Leary-before moving to scoop up Brigid and rush back to the escort car. As she passed by, Jack could see the spidering bright glow of emerald and acid green, of blue, all marking along her pale flesh like veins and capillaries. The witch’s eyes were fixed wide, but he could see no pupils, no irises-nothing but green sclera burning bright-

He twisted back around to look over at Jen. “Wait! _Wait-!_ ” he began, starting to hurry forward. Yeah, fuck, Blank was a dangerous terror that needed to be dealt with as soon as possible-there was absolutely no argument there.

But-

_Ethan wasn’t!_

And from the looks of it, this Jen woman didn’t look like she was about to stop at a mere knockout if she had any say in the matter. And from the look of Blank’s wavering state-she probably _did-_

“Hold on! _Please!_ Don’t kill hi-”

The area suddenly erupted in smoke, enshrouding the unbound fragment, causing Jen to take brief pause in her advance as she squinted through the smoke. Her search was not to be, however, as the sounds of loud pops filled the air, as the crowd finally began to disperse in a chaotic, panicked scramble to get away from whatever the _hell_ was going on. Jack stopped as well, coughing from the smoke, peering on ahead-

And what he made out was not one, but _two_ shadows in the haze.

A brief break in the smoke, allowing a small window to see just clearly enough up ahead.

Just clearly enough to confirm the identity of the person he thought he saw on the street, the person who was now helping Blank retreat from the scene.

The new person that was _very familiar._

“Mat…?” Jack whispered, staring at the second person.

Mat-or _whoever the hell he was now_ -looked back over his shoulder, _straight back at him._

He held up a small round bottle of... _something_ , something with an unnaturally-colored liquid inside and gave it a brief shake as a small, wry grin lingered on his face.

A farewell of sorts, Jack could only assume.

The bottle slipped from the man’s fingers and shattered, another cloud of smoke exploding from its wake.

Jack’s eyes intently searched the new cloud, determined not to lose sight of the two possessed friends for as long as possible-

...But the next part in the smoke revealed nothing.

Both of the fragments were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the wait! I wanted to get this chapter out so much sooner than this, but god forbid writing battles-I ended up more or less rewriting a majority of the end part, so hopefully it paid off in the end! Plus school's been keeping me busy...but hopefully the workload should start easing up in about a week or two since I should be completing one of my classes around that time. Uh, anyway-so yeah! Shit got real here. And now for better or for worse, the events are set in motion~ In the meantime, thanks so much for all your support so far! It really means a lot in encouragement and motivation and really keeps this trilogy going. So if you liked it, drop a kudo, drop a comment, and I'll be seeing you all in the next chapter. Until then!


	10. Chapter 9

A bell jingled in the background, accompanying the sound of the door that opened and shut. The patrons sitting at the bar paid it no mind, absorbed in their own issues. Though it was barely midday, each of them were nursing a drink and already looked a bit haggard-in spite of their business clothes.

“What a mess this all is,” a tall, redheaded man groused, green eyes glaring a bit at the glass in his hand. “The _worldwide_ council is angry, Brigid is _still_ opposing the majority of suggested triage efforts-”

“She’s stubborn,” a smaller woman replied, brunette hair falling almost to midback, wavy but wild as the low light of the bar illuminated the natural blonde highlights. “Believe me, I of all people would know.”

“We all know, Effie,” the redhead snorted, taking a quick swig of his drink. “Believe me, we’re older than you. We’ve had to put up with her for far longer.”

“Of course, we certainly didn’t win any favor with the council when one of us showed up _late_ , either,” the smallest of the bunch remarked, leaning forward to look down the counter and pushing back a bit of long blond hair. “Honestly Cador. Of all the times to run late-” She shook her head. “What could’ve possibly taken priority over showing up to the meeting on time? Especially knowing full well what they were going to focus on-”

A lanky man at the end pulled himself from his conversation with another blond woman, looking over at the one who addressed him. He leaned back in his chair and dragged a hand back through his unruly dark hair with a groan. “Besides you, Guin? The fraction of an evil fuckin' spirit who killed a whole fecking lot of us not too long ago.”

Immediately everyone was upright, all eyes on him.

“What-?”

“Excuse me-?”

“The fuck-?”

Guin’s eyes were focused on him intently. “Did you manage to kill him? Was it Blank?”

“Uh…” There was a long pause for a moment, soon followed up with a blunt, “No and...no.”

The Welshwoman’s look and tone now turned to one of exasperation. _“Why?”_

Cador looked back at them with furrowed brows. “...Uh-” He took a swig of his drink, then gave a small shrug. “I tried?”

“Bullshit,” the redhead countered, giving him a flat look. “If it wasn’t Blank, then...” He shook his head. “C’mon, I know the Cornish leylines are weak, but against _any of the other five fragments-_ ”

The dark-haired man slammed a hand on the bar counter as he slid off his stool and glared the other man down. When he spoke, his Cornish accent was noticeably thicker in his anger. “What the _feck_ did you just say you stringy little wanker?!”

Already Guin was groaning, face falling into her hands.

“I've managed to stay alive through worse shi' than any of yeh cept _maybe_ Brigid an' Mae. So shut your feckin' little greasy shit hole. 'e's stronger than yeh think. An’ you _know_ what ‘e’s lookin’ for. 'e's the one yeh need to keep yer eyes on. No' tha' feckin' Blank. He woulda blown the whole feckin neighborhood up in smoke. I was savin' my people-lest you forgot we need to look out for them too, _idiot_."

The redhead glared back and opened his mouth to counter, only to be interrupted by Guin.

“Calm down, Cador. You too, Alistair. We already have enough on our plate. Fighting amongst ourselves won’t achieve anything besides potential regional discord.”

The grey-eyed blond with wavy, strawberry-blond highlights that sat next to Cador leaned back with a sigh. Unlike the others, her voice lacked any actual accent from the British regions-rather, there was a far stronger influence of French to it. “Guin’s right. As much as I hate to discourage the potential entertainment.”

Cador glanced over at her with a betrayed scowl. “Maela-”

“Cador’s right, too.” The woman crossed her arms, looking at all the others. “You’re putting _far_ too much focus on Blank. He is dangerous-but merely an orbiting threat. If what Cador is saying about one of the others is true, that one isn’t just a threat-it’s a head-on collision.”

Effie’s brows furrowed as rested her head in one hand, finally pulling it away in a questioning gesture. “Sorry, I think I’m a bit lost-what is it this fragment is looking for exactly?”

“Ah-right, you haven’t yet had the _privilege_ of meeting the cu-”

“Oh, _shit-_ ”

The group fell silent, looking over at Guin, then following her gaze. Her eyes were glued to the TV, which was tuned in to a news station. Alistair frowned, gesturing to the bartender to turn up the volume.

“...this morning, roughly about a quarter to six.” The anchor stood in front of some charred, smoldering remains. Cador sat up a bit straighter on his stool, brows furrowing.

“I know that place, it’s in Brighton-” he hissed.

“Shhh!” Effie hissed, eyes still fixed on the program.

“No remains were found in the rubble, but the whereabouts of the residents-famous youtube content creators Felix Kjellberg, also known as Pewdiepie, and his long-time girlfriend Marzia Bisognin-are currently unknown.”

“This is no coincidence,” Guin murmured before finishing off the rest of her drink and sliding off the barstool. “I need to go check in on McLoughlin. Cador, you’re coming with me-we need to have _words_.”

“But-!” Cador began, getting up again with a frown.

Guin’s eyes flitted over to the rest of the family. “Alistair, I want you to head on over to Kjellberg’s house. Investigate what you can, neutralize if necessary. If you’re able to find Kjellberg and his girlfriend, well-use your best judgement.”

“To help or…?” Alistair asked, raising an eyebrow as he slid to his feet.

“Help, yes. Preferably,” Guin replied. She shook her head, adding with a note of regret, “God knows those poor kids have been put through hell and back thanks to our failures. Let’s try and rectify that, even just a little bit, hm?”

“Um-excuse me-” Effie slid off the barstool as well, eyeing Guin. “What about me? How can I help?”

Guin sighed, making a face and shaking her head. “Lunch is almost over. I need you to head back to the meeting-”

“What-?”

“And explain to the council why they likely won’t see our return for the rest of this particular session.”

Effie frowned. “But-Guin-”

“The family also needs a representative,” Guin added. She let out another soft sigh, resting a hand on the woman’s shoulder with a serious look. “I know. I know it’s boring work. But there’s a method to my madness here, _believe me._ ”

Effie stared back stubbornly. “Which is?” she demanded.

Guin met Alistair’s eyes over her shoulder, then looked back at the younger woman. “I need you safe, and I need you alive should anything happen.”

Effie shook her head, letting out an incredulous puff of air. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me-”

“I am doing anything but,” Guin replied, looking her sharply in the eyes. “Believe me, I am _not_ being funny. And trust me when I say that you are _not_ the problem here. The problem here is our sister.”

Effie’s brows furrowed further and she tilted her head. “Brigid?”

“This matter affects her too personally. She’s going to be emotionally compromised, and quite frankly I don’t trust her to make rational decisions when it comes to this particular unbound. If I were to hazard a guess, I would put her at the highest risk out of all of us getting killed by him. That being said, I can’t convince her not to get involved, either.”

Effie shook her head. _“So what-?”_

“So I can’t risk losing _both_ of the bound witches of Ireland!” Guin snapped. “ _Especially_ not after Arthur. We are barely managing as is, taking on the excess burden of the English leylines-and it’s starting to show. As it currently stands, there are not enough unbound on this _planet_ to fill the void this bastard has already made, so it’s not like we have a backup waiting in the wings-at least not for Ireland. If we lose both the regulators of the _entire island..._ and we have to extend our own abilities across the Irish Sea?” The Welsh woman shook her head. “It’s game over. We won’t manage.”

She looked the younger woman in the eyes. “I need you _safe._ And out of harm’s way. And there’s no safer place I can think of than a place where the entire Council of the Bound are going to be congregating. Can you do that for me? Just for a little bit?”

Effie was silent for a moment, still frowning. But finally she sighed and gave a nod. “Our sister needs to stop making bad choices.”

“Don’t I know,” Guin agreed softly.

“Alright. But only under the condition that next time something like this happens, you’re benching _her_ . Not _me_.”

Guin responded with a tight smile. They both knew an affirmative would only be a promise she probably couldn’t keep-but that didn’t stop the older woman from responding as diplomatically as she could anyway. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Fair enough.”

Effie watched as the bound witch of Wales and the bound wizard of Cornwall swiftly disappeared out the door, as the bound wizard of Scotland excused himself for the toilets to take himself out of sight for teleporting out. The bound witch of Ulster then looked to the abandoned bound witch of Brittany, who looked back at her with a raised eyebrow. A silence lingered between the two-the expectation of the latter was almost palpable.

Effie suddenly shook her head. “Fuck it,” she remarked, heading to the ladies’ toilets. “Maela, tell the council that we’re going to be unavailable!”

“What?” Maela straightened a bit on her barstool and twisted around to look back at her. “And what am I supposed to tell them?”

“That we’re wrapping up overdue business so they can finally get off our backs!”

Maela watched as the woman disappeared through the door, then let out a sigh and took another sip of her drink, grumbling something about the unreliability of the bound across the channel.

* * *

 

The apartment was a flurry of activity, people making calls and making runs to other locations and back, people doing triage, the TV a flash of shapes and color in the background. It was positively chaotic and probably the _last_ thing their host was expecting to wake up to.

But, well, here they were.

Things had settled down a small bit since once of the residents had stepped out to purchase some medical supplies, since one of their friends was called over but then soon departed again to pick up some breakfast for everyone. But even then...

“Nothing,” Robin announced, slipping into the residence and closing the door behind him. He sighed, shoulders weighing heavily with stress and anxiety and overall seeming unable to keep too still. “He’s not at the house, he’s not at any of the usual places. The door’s been blown off the hinges, the place is a wreck. His phone is turned off…”

Felix swore under his breath, stopping in the hallway with a cool, damp washcloth in hand. “Why would his phone be turned off?”

“I don’t…” Robin shook his head. “It could be dead.” He frowned on the tail of his words though, adding, “No, that isn’t like him. He’s usually pretty good about keeping it charged.” He eyed the other Swede for a moment, then made a small gesture to the throat area. “How’s your…?”

Felix lightly touched the darkening spots on his throat on instinct and regretted it almost instantly. “Sore. Bruising.” He took a moment to clear his throat, ignoring the soreness that came with it. “But I think that’s really about as bad as it’s gonna get.”

Robin nodded, then glanced into the other room before looking back up at Felix. “And how is she? Any changes?”

Felix followed his gaze, then glanced back down at the washcloth with a small wince. “I wish. But not really.” He scowled. “When I get my hands on that sonuva-”

“Hey-” Robin interrupted. “Just remember, if you’re really sure about what you saw, that means that whatever you do to Anti is going to hurt Ethan too. We need to get him out of our friend _first_ and _then_ you can act.”

“I know, I just-” Felix couldn’t help the little growl that slipped out, turning away from Robin for a moment, then looking back over at him. “He hurt Marzia.” He gestured to the TV, which had footage of their house being put out by the local fire department. “He burnt our house down, he _killed Slippy-_ ”

“And that sucks. It definitely sucks. But our friends are at risk. We _have_ to keep a level head about this.”

“Yeah, I know, but I-”

“Why exactly would he target _you_ anyway?” Robin added, giving Felix a suspicious look. “Because you helped with getting Jack back to normal?”

Felix hesitated, opened his mouth. Shut it again. Pursed his lips and looked away, then finally looked back at Robin. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

Robin gave him a look. “You are a _bad_ liar-”

“It’s because you burned the house down, isn’t it?” The third voice came from the doorway of the office, the speaker leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, his phone in one hand. “The mansion, I mean. You’re the one.”

Felix shifted a little as he now felt _both_ Robin and PJ’s eyes on him, starting to feel more than a little uncomfortable. “...So what if I was-?”

“Felix-”

“Look, I thought it would help Jack, okay?” Felix looked back and forth between the two. “I thought that it would help to wake him up somehow. And besides, it was _long_ overdue. You guys-you guys just _don’t know._ You weren’t _there._ ” He gestured to the outside, adding, “I basically burned down _hell incarnate_ , and everyone’s welcome for that.”

“Maybe. Except now it’s coming back around to bite you in the ass,” PJ pointed out.

Felix shook his head. “How do you guys even _know_ about that anyway-?”

“We all know about it, Felix. We were the ones that called the cops and the ambulances. We were there when you guys escaped from the house,” Robin pointed out.

“We’re on record. That means we’re involved, or at least on a suspect list,” PJ added with a small shrug. “The cops called all of us to ask questions-but we haven’t really heard back since. It doesn’t really seem like they’re pursuing it much further.” He paused. “But _Anti_ is.”

Felix dragged a hand back through his hair with an agitated sigh, taking a few steps away from the others in an attempt to regain his bearings.

PJ turned to Robin. “I’m guessing you’ve had no luck?”

“None,” Robin replied grimly. “And I can’t get a hold of him, either. What about on your end?”

“I tried making a few phone calls…” PJ replied, shaking his head with a thoughtful look on his face. “Haven’t had any luck either.”

Robin muttered a Swedish curse under his breath, shaking his head. They could hear soft whine come from the other room-one of the pugs. Felix pursed his lips, looking down at the washcloth in his hand.

“I...I’d better get this to Marzia. It’s already starting to get warm,” he remarked, heading into the bedroom.

Upon seeing his girlfriend, he could feel his heart break-and it seemed to be doing that every time he saw her in this new state, or really any reminder of the past several hours. She sat at the edge of the bed, slouched over as she clutched her cursed hand with a look of pain on her face. It was easy to miss, but if one was looking for it or already noticed, they could see the very faint glow of red lines traced up her forearm, like veins filled with fire.

“Here…” he said softly, sitting down next to her and easing her cursed hand over to him to wrap the damp washcloth around it. Before it could be fully covered by the fabric, he couldn’t help but notice the center of her palm: a large, bright spot that seemed to swirl with hellfire, one that certainly didn’t seem to want to dim down any time soon, one that seemed to fray and singe her skin at the edges.

“ _Grazie…_ ” Marzia muttered, not even really bothering to translate through her pain.

Felix couldn’t blame her in the slightest. Instead he slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer in an effort to provide _some_ sort of comfort, _anything._ He hated this. He hated feeling so _helpless_ , able to watch but at the time being, unable to do a thing.

It should’ve been him.

 _He_ was the one that Anti should’ve cursed, not Marzia. She was innocent, she had nothing to do with all this. Stupid, he was so _stupid._ The others were right. What was he thinking, burning that fucking mansion down? Of _course_ it would all come back and bite them in the ass, of _course_ he shouldn’t have done something like that before finding out what the hell even _happened_ to Anti. After all, nobody actually saw a body left behind.

He just seemed to...disappear…

“I’m sorry…” he whispered. “I’m sorry. The last thing I ever wanted was for you to get dragged into this mess.” He felt her lean into him a bit and responded with a light squeeze in an effort to try and be reassuring. “We’ll get this all sorted out. I promise.”

He honestly didn’t know if that was really a lie.

He had no idea what to do, no idea where to even really _start._ With the mansion burned down, it wasn’t like they had a quick and easy source for information on magic, especially not Anti’s magic. He briefly had the idea to try and reach out to Guin, that was one of the _first_ things he thought to do as soon as he had access to a phone-but was quick to remember (with soul-crushing realization) that even if he had his own phone, they never _did_ get her number. He tried looking her up on the computer…no luck there, either.

To be honest though, he really wasn’t sure if calling her would actually make things better or _worse._

She was supposed to be the one watching over Ethan. Training him...in magic? Good god-she seemed trustworthy enough when he and Marzia met her, he didn’t really put up much of a fuss and argue with Ethan about it like he suspected Mark did. Was Mark right in his suspicions after all? Did Ethan training under Guin only make things _worse?_

He thought they could trust her.

He thought she would keep an eye out for this sort of thing. After all, if there was anyone out there who would know to anticipate something like this-

How could she allow things to get _this bad_ without doing anything about it, without warning anyone?

“What are we going to do?” Marzia whispered, hair veiling her face on each side.

Felix’s stomach dropped a little at the question-in spite of his reassurances...he didn’t even know how to _answer_ that question.

“We’ll ask around...there’s bound to be other magic users hiding out,” he assured. “We’ll find them. Believe me. We’ll find them.”

Marzia was silent for a few moments, but she didn’t have to say anything for Felix to know what they were both thinking: chances to Felix’s promise seemed slim to none. But...they couldn’t just give up hope.

“What was that you guys were saying about Jack?” she muttered.

“He’s gone missing-” Felix started, noting the worried look from Marzia and giving her another reassuring squeeze. “We’ll find him too. It’s probably just coincidence.”

_Bullshit._

There was reassuring and there was total bullshitting, and now it was just becoming painfully clear it was more so the latter.

“We need to...he just got out of the hospital, he’s not…” Her words dropped off as she sucked in a sharp breath, clutching her hand again and rocking slightly.

Felix frowned, slipping away to stand back up. “That washcloth’s probably warm already. I’m gonna go add some ice to it,” he suggested. “One second-”

“Felix…” Marzia wavered a little bit, causing the Swede’s blue eyes to widen, his hands reaching out to lightly grasp her shoulders in an attempt to steady her. “Felix, I don’t feel so good-”

He could hear the pugs next to her whine, then Edgar get up and bark. He shushed them half-heartedly.

“Quiet, quiet, Edgar. Deutschland,” he scolded.

But this time Maya barked as well, eliciting a groan from the Swede.

“Not you too,” he muttered to the one-eyed pug, trying to tamp down a sudden rising uneasiness.

“They’re probably hungry,” Marzia mumbled. “We didn’t get a chance to grab their food…”

“I’ll ask PJ if he maybe has anything we can give them,” Felix reassured. He moved to gently scoot her a bit further back onto the bed, not fully trusting her balance at the moment. “C’mon, let’s just...there you go. Yeah. Don’t want you falling off the bed or anything while I’m gone…” When he was finally satisfied, he took a step back to check her position again, then another heading to the door. He motioned for the pugs to come along with him. “Edgar, Maya, c’mon.”

While Edgar reluctantly moved to follow, Maya let out a small whine and took a seat next to Marzia. Felix shook his head, walking back over to pick her up. “It’s only for a few minutes, Maya. She’ll be okay for that long.”

_I hope._

The blonde made his way out of the room with the two pugs and back into the kitchen. “PJ,” he called over as he did, the brunette stealing an unusually-wary glance toward the bedroom before moving to follow Felix. “Is there any chance you might have something I can give to the pugs? And...maybe some ice for Marzia?”

“Something…?” PJ began, then looked down at the pugs and shook his head. “Oh, uh, something. Yeah. Maybe.” He opened the freezer to grab some ice-although his voice sounded a bit distracted. “So? Any changes?”

“With Marzia?” Felix winced at the thought as he set Maya down. “...She seems to be in more pain,” he concluded softly. He shook his head. “We can keep giving her ice and stuff, but...I don’t know what to do. We can’t exactly take her to the hospital for something like this-modern medicine ain’t exactly knowledgeable in curses.”

“Yeah, I don’t think the hospital’s going to help too much. And I know Sophie went out to get some burn cream, but...all the burn cream in the world wouldn’t be able to heal up what Anti’s done to her,” PJ murmured. He was silent for a few long moments as he thought the situation over, then finally sighed. “I wonder...we might be able to-”

But his words fell short, petering off into silence. Felix looked over at him from the sink, a curious and worried frown deepening on his features.

“...What-?”

PJ shut the freezer and lifted his hand, a frown on his face as well. But unlike Felix, his frown seemed less puzzled and more so...concerned. Wary. He looked over at Felix for a moment, then pulled his eyes away to gaze back at the kitchen door. As if catching on to the ominous sentiment as it hung thickly in the air, sure enough the pugs began acting increasingly agitated as well, unable to stay still, whining and barking here and there. Felix glanced down at them, trying to shush them again, but suddenly PJ was quickly crossing the kitchen to head out the door. The Swede looked back up, bewildered blue eyes following the brunette. “PJ?”

“Stay here,” was the last thing he heard PJ say before he disappeared completely.

“P...PJ?” Felix began. He glanced back down at the pugs once more before quickly following, shutting the door behind him to keep the pugs inside the kitchen and out of-what he was suspecting more and more-harm’s way. “H-hey-!”

The TV screen was covered with a thick layer of static, broken lines scrolling down here and there.

His hair stood on end. It was as if the entire area was suddenly electrically-charged.

“What’s going on?” Robin asked, approaching with phone in hand.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the screen of the phone was going on the fritz, the image on it wavering and flickering, colors askew.

“Stay there,” PJ called over, holding out a hand towards them as if to telekinetically hold them at bay. His tone had taken on a disconcerting level of seriousness and stress as he made an immediate beeline into the bedroom. “Just stay there!”

The two men in the living room exchanged a glance before Felix shook his head. “Like hell I am,” he muttered, immediately starting forward.

Robin didn’t look quite so sure. “Felix-” he began.

But Felix didn’t stop-on the contrary. Just past PJ he could see Marzia lying on the bed. Hands and forearms glowing with angry red lines, as if the pale skin was cracked by underlying magma. Her body was shaking, mouth open open in a silent scream, eyes a solid glowing red.

She almost seemed to be having a seizure.

“Marzia?” Felix questioned in alarm, coming up on the doorway with eyes wide. “Marzia-!”

“Felix-!” PJ exclaimed, looking back at him with a brief flash of urgency, worry, and near-annoyance. One of his hands was entwined tightly with Marzia’s, specifically the cursed one, pressing the back of it to the mattress. “I said-!”

To his relief, Robin came up from behind Felix, starting to tug him back.

“Robin!” Felix shouted. “Let go, Marzia’s-!”

They were suddenly thrown back as the room exploded with an intense red light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh, yeah, that happened. Here we get to meet Brigid's family...and we finally get a peek at our first set of victims in this fic. It was bound to happen eventually~ And quick thanks to my beta reader Syd, as she helped out quite a bit with this chapter and let me briefly borrow her character Cador. In the meantime, thanks so much for all the support, it means a lot and really keeps me going, pushing through that writer's block and motivated to continue on as driven as ever! And really, the timing couldn't have been better as it is exactly one year to the day of the official end of Devil's Deal. So if you liked it, drop a kudo, drop a comment, and I'll be seeing you all in the next chapter. Until then!


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